The Age of Innocence
by pattyrose
Summary: On the eve of the Second World War, young Isabella has been taken from all she knows and is now stepdaughter to one of the richest men in America. Spending her summers in Washington State, she's unaware that this is where she & a young boy will find their fate, where childhood friendship will mature into the fiercest love: a love that must endure the end of innocence. Rated M. E&B.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back with another story. This one will be a bit different from anything I've written before, so I truly hope you enjoy it. **

**In honor of Veteran's Day tomorrow, I'd like to dedicate this first posting to all the courageous men and women who have fought for and served this great nation of ours. I'd also like to remember and honor the men and women who loved and stood behind those brave patriots.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**And once again, Michelle Renker Rhodes is my silly, sweet Beta-Girl. **

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_"They have given their sons to the military services. They have stoked the furnaces and hurried the factory wheels. They have made the planes and welded the tanks. Riveted the ships and rolled the shells." -** President Franklin D. Roosevelt (addressing women's contributions to WWII).**_

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**September, 2014**

My eyes sweep over the vast field where green grass undulates lazily in the mid-September breeze, blades swaying back and forth, indecisive as to whether they're coming or going. Squinting against the sun's bright glare, I adjust my thick-lensed, red-rimmed frames so that I can make out the objects far beyond the old, magnificent evergreen.

Thick lenses notwithstanding, my sight is no longer what it once was. I remove the burdensome frames and bunch up my red silk blouse around them, quickly wiping off miniscule fragments of lint before returning them to their resting place.

Moving closer to the window, I spy something headed this way, kicking up drab, dry earth into the air and making that air drift and churn like a miniature hurricane. The word for the rapidly approaching object is on the tip of my tongue, but as so many things lately, it escapes me for a few seconds; names and entities intimately familiar take longer to process; they become 'watchamacallits' in my mind.

But this – four wheels, an engine, and a steering wheel – this is almost comical how long it's taking me to remember the name!

Oh yes, it's a car.

A familiar one. Big and black, with three rows and a huge trunk used to carry bikes and basketballs...

An SUV…_Isabella's_ SUV.

My heart gives a thrilled little lurch. I place a withered hand over it to try and ease its anxious hammering.

"Leah! Leah, Isabella's coming!"

"Yes, Mama."

Leah's response carries from one of the other rooms, probably the kitchen judging from the delicious scents wafting in the air.

"I told you she and the kids were coming today, remember? And so are Bastian and Charlie and their families."

A vague recollection tickles somewhere in the back of my mind…there is something I should be remembering about today…

"It's your ninetieth birthday, Mama."

"Oh yes," I say. "So it is."

"That's nothing to be so nonchalant about," she chuckles. "It's a milestone to be proud of."

"Well, at least it's an excuse for your brothers and the grandchildren to visit."

I keep my eyes on the fast-moving vehicle headed this way, still dispersing earth and soil as it barrels down the narrow, winding road. The SUV takes the last bend at an angle that makes me shudder, and then it barely comes to a halting stop before the boy is already out. His long hair, so much like his great-grandfather's hair, waves wildly in the wind.

"Look, it's Isabella and the kids! Are they staying for supper?" I ask, still looking out the window.

My daughter, Leah, stands behind me. She rests her hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, Mama," she says. Her voice sounds quietly patient. "Today is your birthday."

"Oh yes. So it is."

I smile and watch Isabella open the trunk. She pulls out a couple of large, brown paper bags with the words _"Whole Foods"_ printed on the side and precariously balances each in one arm while the girls languidly step out of the back seat, eyes glued to those little telephones they carry with them everywhere.

"Ethan, at least help me with one of these bags!" I hear Isabella screech. The boy plainly huffs before turning around and grabbing one of the bags from his mother's arms.

"Your father will be so pleased to see them," I say before turning to look at Leah. "Should I wake him, do you think?"

Leah tilts her head, her dark eyes warm as she strokes my cheek, her tender fingers gliding back and forth along withered, spotted skin.

"Mama, maybe not just yet."

"I suppose the kids can be a bit rambunctious, can't they, especially that Ethan." I smile. "Got too much of his great-grandpa in him. We'll wake him later then, after Charlie and Bastian arrive with their families."

She nods and takes my hand in hers. "Okay, Mama."

An adamant fist bangs on the door, demanding entry.

"Coming! Coming!" Leah says. She walks to the door while I wait anxiously by my spot near the window, my heart suddenly racing with anticipation. Yet when Leah opens up, the boy runs in right past her, drops the bag, and all I manage to catch are streaks of color - red, brown, blue, and white - before he turns right back around.

"Ethan! Ethan, get your butt back over here and say hi to your grandmothers!"

Isabella storms in, dropping the other bag on the floor as she yells after her youngest little monster.

But the boy barely bothers to turn and merely throws out a hurried "Hi Grandmas!" before he's off.

Still, I can't fault him for being anxious to get to the big evergreen, where the tire swing awaits him underneath a canopy of heavy branches. It's always been one of my favorite spots as well.

There are things I don't remember quite so easily anymore, moments lost in a haze of time and age - moments when I'm about to say something or think something, and then suddenly the words or thoughts are…gone, gone like a flowing, silver stream swallowed up by a wide, dark river.

But there are moments and truths that will never fade; not with time or age.

Like this truth: Ethan loves that swing. He laughs and yells and tilts himself practically up to the sky while his long, skinny legs propel him to heights that make his mother cringe and scream and that fill my mind with so many memories…

I'm snapped back to the present by Isabella's anger.

She scowls at her son's retreating form. "That damn boy has been running wild since his father was deployed again. I'm going to have to tell Matt to have a talk with him as soon as he returns from duty. Skye, Olivia, put the phones down and say hi to your grandmothers."

With a deep sigh, the twin, sixteen year-old blond, blue-eyed beauties return their phones to their purses. They take after their father, unlike their brother; when I look at Ethan, I'm back along the Sol-Duc River eighty-somewhat years ago, looking up into the face of-

"Hi, Nana Bella," Skye (or is it Olivia?) says, giving me a kiss and a careful hug, breaking me out of one of those reveries that have been taking over more and more lately. Then the other one hugs and kisses me.

Then Isabella, my namesake, hugs me. "Happy Birthday, Nana. How have you been? You look so pretty in your red blouse and red lipstick."

"Why thank you, Child. I've been just fine."

I study her through my thick, red frames. There's a deep melancholy in Isabella's big, golden eyes, a sadness that I can't fail to recognize; it's the constant fear and longing for a lover risking his life, thousands of miles away. Yet there's something else lurking deep within her eyes today, something she seems to be trying to hide.

I pat her soft cheek. "Your grandfather will be so happy to see you."

She smiles. "We brought you a birthday present."

"You and the kids visiting us is all the present we need."

She sighs and hugs me tight again. "Oh, Nana."

OOOOOOOOOO

After putting away the groceries she's brought, Isabella excuses herself, and I go join my daughter and great-granddaughters in the kitchen. My gait is admittedly a bit slow these days, and so I hear the girls squealing before seeing the object that's caused all the fuss:

A bowl full of dark, brown batter rests in the middle of the counter.

"You're baking a cake?" I ask.

Leah looks up quickly. "Mama! It was a surprise! Girls, I thought I asked you to keep Nana Bella entertained in the front room, so she wouldn't see her cake?"

"Sorry." They murmur simultaneously – though they don't even look up from their phones.

Leah purses her lips, but smiles again when she looks back to me.

"Of course I'm baking a cake, Mama. It's your birthday today."

"Oh yes, it is. I suppose I'll be turning…ninety."

"That's right!" Leah grins from ear to ear. "I'm so proud of you, Mama!"

"I don't see how my being older than the moon is something to be proud of, but very well," I proclaim.

Apparently, I've said something humorous because Skye and Olivia both giggle.

"Now, Mama, don't act so unimpressed." Leah lifts one reprimanding eyebrow at me as she mixes away at the batter. "Not many people can say they've been blessed with so many years and have seen so much rich history first-hand."

I roll my eyes as I take a seat at the counter.

The girls gather around, peeking up from their phones every couple of minutes to see what their grandmother is doing, until I finally spy Leah quirk an admonishing eyebrow at them. There's a chorus of quiet sighs as the phones get placed on the counter, and their sleeves get rolled up.

"You made my favorite cake?" I ask.

"Well, it's your birthday, so of course I'd make your favorite."

"It's my birthday…"

A hazy mist sheathes my eyes. For a few seconds, it's not my daughter or granddaughters I see standing in the kitchen…

_It's a beautiful woman with silky, copper hair_, _pinned into a simple bun. A white apron covers up the slightly worn, yet elegant, blue day dress that falls to just below her knees. She smiles at me, her bright, green eyes sparkling warmly. She holds a mixing spoon in one hand and a bowlful of home-made batter in the other. _

"_Bella, I'm baking a cake for Edward's birthday. Would you like to help?"_

"_I've never baked a cake."_

"_You've never helped your mama bake a cake?" There's obvious surprise in her voice._

"_No, ma'am. Mrs. Clearwater does all our cooking, and I'm not allowed in the kitchen to watch. Mother says it isn't ladylike."_

_She sighs, her warm eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well here in this house you're allowed to learn and help with anything you want." Her fingers stroke my cheek. "Do you want to help?"_

_I nod vigorously. "Yes, Mrs. Cullen."_

"_Okay, then," she says softly. "And remember, Bella, you may just call me Esme..."_

"This cake is hella-weird," Olivia (or Skye) says. She purses those purple-painted lips of hers, glaring warily at the mix before her. "You're putting vinegar in it?"

"And water?" Skye (or Olivia) giggles.

"That's how the recipe goes." Leah patiently mixes away.

"Where are the butter, eggs and milk?" one of the girls asks. "When are you going to add in those?"

"There's no butter, eggs or milk in this cake," Leah says.

"What?" the girl cries. "What kind of wack-as-hell cake doesn't have butter, eggs or milk?"

"The kind of cake we used to have when I was a little girl growing up during the Depression," I say, "when butter, eggs and milk were too expensive, and then during the war, when they were rationed, and we had to go without sometimes."

Olivia/Skye wrinkles her dainty, button nose. "Growing up back then must've seriously sucked - no internet, no iPads, no cell phones. I think I would've died. But weren't your parents rich, Nana Bella?"

"_Isabella, the piano teacher will be here in one hour. Go ask Mrs. Cope to help you get ready. And Isabella, I've asked the French tutor to come in this afternoon for an extra lesson. He's informed me that you haven't been practicing your conjugations..."_

"Yes. Yes, Mother had money. But she wasn't born with such, and most of the people I knew weren't wealthy."

I look down at the thin, plain white gold band on the fourth finger of my left hand, and all the while, I feel their eyes on me, but my mind sees someone else...

"_I know it's not much, and I know your mother will probably hate it and say you deserve better, and she'll be right about that. But this here ring has got my very heart and soul wrapped around it, Bella, and it's yours, heart and soul and body and all, if you'll have me..."_

The front screen door screeches open, and a few seconds later, Ethan storms into the kitchen, huffing and puffing, nostrils smoking like a half-stoked chimney.

"Ethan, what in the world is the matter?" Leah asks him.

"Mom made me get off the swing because she says I'm going to break my goddamn neck, and she doesn't have the goddamn time or patience to take me to the hospital! Never lets me have any fun!"

He opens up the refrigerator and pulls out the gallon of milk, drinking straight from the container. When he's done, he barrels right back out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going now?" Leah calls after him.

"To get my Xbox out of the car!"

"Boy spends too much time on that contraption," I opine with a shake of my head.

While Leah carries the cake to the oven, I stick the mixing spoon in my mouth and give it a couple of good licks before she can catch me – besides, no one else seems to be interested in tasting the mix. Then I pick up the rest of the dirty utensils and carry them all to the sink. All the while, Olivia and Skye simultaneously complain about the hella-weird cake and check their phones in case they've missed a life-or-death _communiqué_ in the past ten minutes.

"Mama, what are you doing?" Leah asks.

"Why, what does it look like I'm doing?" I say. "I'm scrubbing."

Leah reaches into the sink and gently yet firmly takes the sponge and utensils out of my hands, nudging me aside.

"Mama, that's what we've got a dishwasher for."

"Oh yes. The dishwasher." I shake my head, having forgotten about that contraption.

"Then perhaps these girls here can help me tidy up the kitchen. In my day, we had to help clean up before we got to lick the bowl."

"Nana Bella, we don't want to lick the bowl! Do you know how many calories are probably in that batter?" Skye/Olivia says. "If we lick that bowl, we'll have to watch what we eat for two weeks!"

"Humph," I snort. "When _we_ were kids, we didn't have to mind calories because we spent most of our time playing and running around outdoors, not with our heads glued to one screen or another."

"Mama, I think you're getting tired. Why don't you go relax for a little while? Once Charlie and Bastian and the rest of the family arrives, it'll be a madhouse around here."

She's trying to get rid of me. I'm making a nuisance of myself, I suppose.

"Very well. I'll just go upstairs and check on your father."

"Mama, don't go up those stairs just now. Go rest in the bedroom down here. You'll need help coming down otherwise, and I'm busy in the kitchen."

"Then I'm going out front to check on Isabella."

"Isabella's fine, Mama. Go take a nap."

I ignore her and walk out through the screeching screen door from which Ethan just walked in.

OOOOOOOOOO

I forget things. I do. But I know that it's September, and I know that the sun shining today is rare for this time of year here in the majestic mountains of Washington. The air should be full of clouds and mist hiding the mountains, shrouding them in soft, white, billowy cotton.

Instead, the heat of the sun rains down over my wrinkled skin, highlighting liver spots and pruned hands. I raise my face to the sun as I walk, daring it to do more damage than it's already done over the past nine decades.

When I reopen my eyes, they rest on the black tire swing under the evergreen that's been our gathering place ever since…well, ever since I can remember.

Isabella swings herself over the tire-swing, to and fro like a pendulum of passing time.

I hear her quiet sobs, the hitch of her breath, the uneven sighs.

I see the surprise in her eyes when she opens them and finds me sitting on the grass in front of her, my blue-jean clad legs folded at my side.

"Nana." She wipes away the smudged makeup under her eyes. "I didn't hear you approaching."

"One of the benefits of being old," I smile. "Our bodies and souls are so close to the hereafter that our footsteps are almost ghost-like."

She shakes her head, and I chuckle.

"What is it, Child? Has the boy finally driven you insane, or is it something else that's got you like this?"

"It's…" She looks up and holds my gaze.

Her eyes are so much like my own used to be: rich golden orbs I saw in my reflection for so many decades. My husband says that Isabella's long, thick chestnut hair is exactly the same shade as mine as well.

Then I remind him that my hair hasn't had a lick of chestnut in it for at least two decades, and that I've got four eyes now instead of two. It's his love for me that keeps me perpetually young in his eyes. The mirror tells a completely different story.

"You wouldn't understand, Nana," Isabella says, forcing my attention back to her.

"Now I know I'm no spring chicken," I chuckle, "but I remember what it's like to have young children. And I also remember what it's like to have a man off at war.

"Yes, I know you do, Nana," Isabella says. "But times have changed." She looks off into the horizon, her honey-colored eyes hardening, losing their sweet softness. "Warfare has changed. There are drones now, and IEDs, and men who twist religious beliefs to suit their own horrific purposes. And I know that when you grew up, you had hardships too, Nana, like the Depression and yes, the war." She narrows her eyes. "But you didn't have the horrors of school shootings or of children killing children. You didn't have the Taliban or Isis or home-grown terrorists for that matter, and you certainly didn't have to grow up in the aftermath of Nine-Eleven," she snorts. "There was an innocence to your time that my children will never experience. And any innocence this country, this _world_ may have still possessed was lost on Nine-Eleven."

She looks down. Her boot-covered feet drag through the indentation of dirt that decades of swinging have left in that spot.

"Life is so much harder now, Nana. You just wouldn't understand."

I gaze at my favorite granddaughter. She's my favorite because she's his favorite. And she's his favorite because he says he sees a reincarnation of me in her. A reincarnation of me physically yes, but more than that, he sees a reincarnation of the way I once saw the world with optimism and faith, with unshakable beliefs and with a certainty in the basic concepts of love, promise and hope.

She doesn't seem to possess that faith in love and hope right now, and I don't want him to see her this way.

I lay a heavily lined, wrinkled hand on Isabella's leg, waiting patiently for her to once more meet my eyes.

"Isabella, I am turning ninety today, and yes, times have certainly changed in the past few years, but I know about life. I know about love. I know about blessings and heartache and unbridled joy. I know about fury, and believe it or not," I grin, "I know quite a bit about passion as well. I know about innocence had and innocence lost."

I close my eyes then.

Behind ancient lids, I see them all young and strong. I see the river sparkling like diamonds, and Sandy running and barking. I see Carlisle and Esme sitting out on the porch, kissing quietly by the light of the full moon. I see Alice running with her skirts flying high in the wind, and Jasper chasing her despite his bad leg. I see Rose and Masen holding hands through the woods. I see Jacob, smiling. I see my Dad…I see Papa Phil…I see Mother with her glittering diamonds…

But most prominently I see him; I see bright, emerald eyes full of an innocence that stole my breath, an innocence that stole my heart.

An innocence an entire nation lost one dark, December day.

Isabella believes my time was the age of innocence. Well it was, I suppose, but it was so much more than that.

"I was just shy of ten years old the first time I met him…"

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**This will be mainly in BPOV, with EPOVs later on in the story. It will update twice weekly, Mondays and Thursdays.**

**Also, in this coming Thursday's posting, we'll begin a playlist of the great music that came out of the 1930's and 1940's. :) **

**It's been a while since we've WIP'd together, so let me know if you've got any other questions, Lovies. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to **_**'Stories by Pattyrose'**_** on facebook is on my profile page.**


	2. Chapter 1: The Union Builder

**A/N: Good morning, my lovelies. I hope you all enjoyed the prologue to our story. I know there are lots of questions, and as we continue with the story, each will be answered.**

*****A few housekeeping items***:**

**First, thank you all for your lovely reviews. In the past few days, I've learned so many wonderful things about parents and grandparents who lived through the Great Depression and WWII, and I've appreciated each and every story. **

**Second, once or twice a chapter, I'll be switching back to 2014 Bella's POV. I'll mark the beginning and ending of this switch like this: ########## Otherwise, if we're just changing scenes, it'll be marked this way: OOOOOOOOO. If this turns out to be too confusing, I'll try to find a different way to do it. And if you don't understand what the heck I'm talking about here, don't worry; it'll probably become clear as you read. :)**

**Third, we're beginning our AOI PLAYLIST this chapter! Go to the ending A/N for that.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The story is mine.**

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**Chapter 1: 1934 – The Union Builder**

###########

"I was just shy of ten years old the first time I met him…it was July first, 1934…"

Lost in memories once again, I suppose more than a couple of minutes pass before I look up at Isabella. She's watching me patiently.

"Actually," I say. "I think this will make more sense if we go back just a little bit to mid-June of 1934…"

##########

1934 was a hard time all over the place. We were in the middle of what later became known as the Great Depression. Over a quarter of our nation's work force was unemployed; businesses and banks closed daily. You had soup lines and Hoovervilles, hobos and FDR with his New Deals. You had dried-up fields and dust storms in the Midwest. In Chicago, it was the heyday of bank robbers and gangsters. And over in Europe…in Europe, a twisted man and his party were just beginning their rise to power.

As for me…at the ripe, old age of nine, I was taking my first coast-to-coast railway ride, commencing in New York, New York, on the east coast of the U.S. and culminating in Seattle, Washington on the west coast.

See, I was a little, rich girl.

I'd already embarked on the first leg of my trip - an eighteen hour ride from New York City's Grand Central Station to Chicago's Union Station. This trip occurred on the _21st Century Limited_, a wonderful passenger train at the time but only for the wealthy and privileged, you see. You've doubtless seen the movies about those "old-fashioned" passenger trains of the 1930's and 1940's with the magnificent restaurants and sleeper cars and people dressed to the nines for a train ride? Well, all those movies are based on the splendor that was the _21st Century Limited_.

Now this wasn't my first train ride, mind you, but it was the first one with such finery and extravagance.

I wasn't born a little rich girl.

##########

"Maybe I should go back a little further," I muse.

Isabella laughs indulgently, and though I know she's just humoring me, it does my heart good to hear her do so.

"Go ahead, Nana. Take your time."

##########

I was born to a housewife and an elementary schoolteacher in a small town on the outskirts of Chicago. My father, Charles Swan, once told me he became a teacher because he wanted to enrich and enlighten children's lives. My mother, Renee Dwyer, once told me she married a schoolteacher because it was either that or starve.

Now the summer before my first ride on the _21st Century Limited_, Mother took me on a summer weekend trip to New York.

"Times are hard right now, Renee," my dad said when Mother mentioned her desire to take this trip. "You've seen what it's like for most folk. At least we've got a roof over our heads and enough to put food on the table, but us going to New York right now is something we can hardly afford!"

Mother ignored him and stood her ground, and so she and I went without him.

Mother loved New York. She loved reading about the rich, high society socialites and tycoons who lived there. She loved hearing about their endless wealth and about their extravagant life-styles despite the poverty surrounding us from every side.

"Reading about them rich socialites and hearing about their parties and adventures is my only way of escaping the horrors of this world we live in," she used to tell me. "It's my only way to forget, even for just a little while, that I've ended up married to a man who'll never get us out of that shack we call a home, a man who's going nowhere fast, a man who even now at my young age of twenty seven, is doing nothing more than dragging me down!"

And so we spent the weekend walking up and down the streets of New York's wealthiest neighborhoods: Park Avenue and Fifth Avenue, admiring the splendor of the Savoy Plaza Hotel and the majestic height of the Empire State Building - at the time the tallest building in the world. And as we traveled from one place to another, we passed bread lines where thin, gaunt men with eyes sunk into their skulls waited for something…anything, while their caps covered greasy hair that hadn't been washed in weeks due to the lack of clean water that generally resulted when one lacked a home.

Mother pretended they weren't there.

"Come along, Isabella," she instructed when I dared look their way as we walked past Central Park.

We spent what became a life-altering afternoon having tea at the new Waldorf-Astoria – which had just opened the year before. Mother wore her best dress: a light cream, bias cut shift that fell to her knees, a bit more worn and fitted than it was supposed to be because she'd owned the dress for quite a while.

"Your father hasn't seen fit to buy me a new dress in a while," I remember her saying as she dressed in front of the mirror in our small hotel room that morning, "but at least this one shows off my legs and calves beautifully, as well as the curves I managed to keep despite nine long months of hell and torture."

I remember watching her do her makeup, draw in her pencil-thin brows and line her red-stained lips before applying her rouge. She adjusted the bust-line of her dress, cupping her breasts and raising them so that the top swells showed over the square neckline. She added in her shoulder pads before putting on her mother's royal blue gloves.

"One of the only pretty things my own mother left me," I was told.

Last was the royal blue hat she'd bought herself the day before, the one with the fancy netting that cost about a week of Dad's salary.

"And you'd better not breathe a sole number of the price of this hat to your father," she warned me. "Bad enough he's going to blow his top when he sees how much of our savings I've used for this trip. But as my own mother always said, better to enjoy your money now while you're still young enough to do so than to save it for when you've got a foot in the grave."

She tilted the hat to the side so that the netting covered one of her dark blue eyes. It gave her an air of mystery that made her look breathtaking.

"You look beautiful, Mother," I told her because she did look beautiful, with her pretty clothing, and her pretty face, and her short, bobbed blond hair. Mother was a beauty to behold; there was no denying it.

She gave me a pleased smile before dressing me in my Sunday best: a blue, Peter-Pan collar dress that matched her gloves and new hat. The dress was a slight bit faded as I'd owned it for a while by then. Mother frowned while she pulled on the hem of my dress. Though it was supposed to fit just over my knees, it fell a couple of inches above that.

"Lord, why you had to go and have that growth spurt a few months back is beyond me." She threw her hands up in surrender and then turned to pick up the comb, brushing my long, auburn hair before clipping a blue bow to my crown. Lastly, she gave me a pair of cream gloves to put on.

She pursed her lips as she took in the finished product. "I suppose you'll have to do."

We arrived at the Waldorf-Astoria on that warm, summer morning. I remember looking up at the grey, granite façade, marveling at the fact that this was, as my mother had informed me on our way over here, the largest hotel in the world. Mother was calling my name, scolding me for staring slack-jawed, for being awe-struck by the bronze doors and the tuxedoed doorman waiting to open the door for me, when another gentleman approached, and the doorman quickly opened the door for him instead. The gentleman waited and held the door for Mother and me.

"Why, thank you so much," Mother said in her sweetest voice, smiling her sweetest smile and fluttering her long lashes in that way she sometimes did when we went to the fruit market so that Mr. Lee would give her an extra couple of apples for our twelve cents. She adjusted her short, fur stole around her shoulders – another of the few, nice things her mother had left her.

"You're very welcome," the gentleman replied. He had a deep, voice, but there was a smile in it too, and his thick mustache twitched as if in good humor.

Mother took my hand as we passed by the gentleman into the opulence of the grand foyer of the hotel, yet instead of leading us on, she paused and turned around.

The gentleman stopped and looked down at me. "You look very lovely this morning, Young Lady."

"Thank you," I replied.

He looked at Mother and gave a little bow her way, holding his fedora pressed against his chest. "And so do you, Madam. I would hope your husband realizes how lucky he is, to have such a beautiful family."

"I thank you, Sir, and if my husband were here, I would hope he'd thank you as well."

"Is he waiting for you further in the building?" he asked, his tone, his voice, his stance all solid and elegant. He was dressed in a dark, crisp, three-piece suit, and even I, eight years old at the time and as of yet not knowing a thing about the world, could see how the suit screamed of wealth and taste and refinement.

"May I have the honor of escorting you to him?"

"You may have the honor of escorting us, but my husband is not here. My daughter and I were about to have tea by ourselves."

"I would hate to intrude on such a lovely Mother-Daughter outing."

"It would be no intrusion at all, Sir, I assure you."

I remember there was something about the way Mother said this, the indirect purposefulness, the breathy and unfamiliar quality of her voice. Her hand tightened around mine as if instructing me to remain quiet - though what she may have expected I would say at that moment to this day eludes me. Oh, don't get me wrong; I've figured out what she feared I might say. I just fail to understand how she thought any of that would've even crossed my mind at the time.

Either way, there was a pause in the conversation. The gentleman looked at his gold watch and then back at Mother.

"In that case, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Philip Dwyer the Second, and I would deeply appreciate the honor of escorting you and your lovely daughter to tea."

Six months later, Mother divorced Dad, and she and I moved to New York to live with my new Stepfather, Philip Dwyer the Second: railroad tycoon and possessor of a fortune that would finally provide Mother with the type of lifestyle she was meant for – or so she told me.

And a few weeks after that, Mother enrolled me in Miss Tudor's School in New Paltz, New York where I was to board for the remainder of my school years until the summer months when I would join her and Papa Phil - as he'd asked me to call him after the ceremony - up in the mountains of Washington State, where he'd grown up as a boy and to which he returned every year for a summer sojourn.

The divorce settlement stipulated that I would spend two weeks every summer with my dad as well as alternating weeks in the spring and the Christmas holiday. Dad and Mother had decided that it would be better to break up the long train ride to Washington and back for me since I'd be traveling alone both ways, as Mother and Papa Phil would begin their vacations before me and end it after I left. Therefore, I'd spend one week with Dad in Chicago on the way to Washington and one week with him when returning from Washington before resuming my studies at Miss Tudor's.

Dad and I spent that first week fishing in Lake Michigan, walking around the Navy Pier eating popcorn and cotton candy – things we never did with Mother. We went to the zoo and the World's Fair. We listened to _The Fred Allen Show_ and Jack Benny on the radio. We camped outdoors in our back yard, and we sat on the porch outside our small house while he told me stories of school and the children he taught, and I told him about the passenger train _21st Century Limited_.

"You have to walk on a plush, red carpet to board at the station, and the attendants, all dressed in tuxedoes, called me _Miss Dwyer_," I said, lifting my chin and speaking in my best uppity tone.

Dad laughed. "I bet they tended to your every whim." When I shrugged, he said, "Well no, you're not a child prone to whims, are you?"

I told him about the cabin I had to myself for the night on the train, rather than the two Pullmans that Mother and I had once shared in a room with two other women the first time she and I went to New York. Mother had complained all night about their snoring.

He laughed at all my stories, but there was a deep sadness to his laugh, which I found masochistically amazing. It was a laugh I would hear many more times in my life, from many people.

Dad's best friend, Billy, would come over some nights with his son Jacob, who was almost three years older than I. Jake and I would run around while Dad and Uncle Billy danced on the grave of prohibition and drank homemade moonshine as they reminisced over the Great War in which they'd both served. Billy had lost a leg in Germany, so now wore a wooden one that slowed him down a bit. I remember hearing him laugh with Dad once, saying it didn't slow him down in bed, and I remember thinking how that made no sense because you were sleeping in bed anyway, weren't you?

One night, Dad may have had a little too much to drink.

After Uncle Billy and Jake left, Dad and I were left sitting on the porch steps. I got up to go inside, but Dad took a sudden hold of my arm and pulled me into his side. Then he began sobbing like a baby.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you, Isabella. I'm sorry," he repeated over and over.

I sat there and let him hold me and cry because I had no idea at what he'd failed. Dad was a war hero, a school hero…

My hero.

OOOOOOOOOO

Now let's get back to mid-June, 1934.

I was at Union Station in Chicago with my Dad, in the Great Room waiting to board the _Union Builder_, the passenger train that would take me on the last leg of my trip, to Seattle, Washington, where Mother and Papa Phil awaited me.

And so Dad and I stood now by the platform before I boarded for the two and a half day trip through six states in the northwestern part of the country. Mother and Papa Phil had sent Mrs. Cope for me two days before. She was to be my attendant: an older, chunky lady with white hair but young, kind eyes, and while Dad and I said our goodbyes, she ensured that the train attendants properly loaded my new luggage and then went to get my room ready.

"Now you be careful over there in Washington - lots of wilderness over there. S'a good thing that Bonnie and Clyde pair got themselves caught and killed, but there's always copycats."

"I'll be careful."

"And I know it's a hot summer, but your swimming is still poor. Wait 'til you come back end of August, and we'll practice some more before you try to go swimming."

"I'll wait."

Dad stared at me, studying my eyes, my nose, my hair, and the rest of me as if trying to memorize it all.

He swallowed thickly. "I love you, Isabella; don't you forget that. You've got to be my strong girl now. Be my brave girl."

And as happened so often in my young life, I didn't know exactly what he meant. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to throw myself into his strong arms and beg him to keep me here with him where I belonged. But as young as I was, I knew he couldn't. I knew Mother and Papa Phil wouldn't allow him to keep me, and so there was no point in asking for things I couldn't have.

"I will. I love you too, Dad."

I hugged him, and then I smiled and waved goodbye to him from the window of the rich, mahogany wood paneled, public car. And as the train whistled its way out of Union Station, I sat over one of the fine, flower-patterned, velvet upholstered benches and allowed only one solitary tear to escape because I would be strong. I would be brave.

When Mrs. Cope came to find me, she knelt in front of me and took my hand.

"It'll be all right, Isabella."

I didn't answer. Instead, I kept my eyes on my lap, fighting the painful sting in my eyes.

"Isabella," she said softly, and waited for me to meet her gaze. When I did, she smiled. "It _will_ be all right. Things happen as they're meant to. Every path has a destination, even if at first it's hard to see where the long, winding road is taking us."

Eventually, Mrs. Cope led me to our private car. I was Isabella Marie Dwyer now, and my stepfather owned this railroad, mountain to mountain, from sea to shining sea.

And as I looked out of the clear, glass windows at the blackened landscape whirring by us, I had no idea that this long, winding road made of steel and metal would steamroll head on through prairies and mountains - and deliver me straight to my fate.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI PLAYLIST Song #1:**

_**Moonglow**_** by Benny Goodman (1934)**

_**It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue**__**  
**__**It must have been moonglow that led me straight to you…**_

***The **_**21**__**st**__** Century Limited**_** is based on the real life **_**20**__**th**__** Century Limited**_**, a real passenger train aimed at the upper class that ran between 1902 and 1967.** **Passengers walked to the train on a red carpet which was rolled out in New York and Chicago and was designed specifically for the train. Hence, the term, "Getting the red carpet treatment." **

***The **_**Union Builder**_** is based on the real life **_**Empire Builder, **_**a passenger train now operated by Amtrak in the midwestern and northwestern U.S. Before Amtrak, the Empire Builder was the flagship train of the Great Northern Railway. In operation since 1929, the train passes through some of the most magnificent landscape in the country. **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all on Monday. :)**


	3. Chapter 2: Evergreen Eyes

**A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews. My little girl had a birthday this weekend, and things were pretty busy, so if I didn't get back to you last week, I'll try my best to do so this week. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The storyline is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Evergreen Eyes**

Over the next couple of days, we trekked through the rural lands of Wisconsin before crossing the Upper Mississippi River. We stopped at St. Paul, Minnesota for a while; after which, the landscape changed from green-treed forests to barren, flat prairie land with only the occasional sight of a farmstead in the distance. Through North Dakota, we rode by the Northern Plains and then came the mountains upon mountains of Montana, which continued through Idaho and straight into Washington, where a little over two and a half days into our trip, we arrived at King Street Station in Seattle.

While the attendants took care of my luggage, Mrs. Cope led me through and out of the train station. Outside, I squinted my eyes against the rainy mist in the air.

"Where is Mother?" I asked Mrs. Cope as she whispered quietly with a man in a black suit and a black, shiny cap. He stood next to a long, black and red car. The last few months of being Philip Dwyer the Second's stepdaughter had familiarized me with chauffeurs and limousines.

Mrs. Cope quickly shook her head before giving me a small smile – one of those aforementioned sad ones I was beginning to realize preceded lies meant to comfort us.

"Isabella, this is Felix. He'll be your family's personal chauffeur while up here in Washington, and he's been sent by your mother and father in the very best car! They're eagerly awaiting us back at the house."

My eyes scanned the area once again. Red and green trolleys crisscrossed in front of us, while a backdrop of huge, snow-peaked mountains rose up in the distance, covered by a blanket of billowing clouds.

But there was no Mother.

I turned back to them.

"How do you do, Felix?"

"Very well, Miss Dwyer. May I help you in?"

With Felix's assistance, I climbed into the black leather back seat of the best car, where Mrs. Cope joined me. Once my entire luggage set was situated nicely, Felix climbed into the front of the best car, and we were off.

"How far is the house?" I asked a few minutes into our trip.

"The house is in the Olympic Mountains," Mrs. Cope smiled, "in a small town in Clallam County. It's about four hours away."

"What's the town called?"

"Well…it doesn't really have a name," she chuckled. "Not officially, anyhow. Most folks call it Forks because of the rivers that fork around it."

I listened to her stories about growing up in the small town of Forks, and about how Papa Phil had grown up there as well, in a house with no electricity or running water until he'd decided to strike out on his own and make his fortune. Determined and ambitious, he'd succeeded quickly, making his fortune through railroads, and a few years later, he'd had the house where he'd grown up torn down, and he built the magnificent summer retreat that stood there now.

Lulled by the sound of her voice, in combination with my exhaustion and the passing scenery of trees, fauna, clouds and more trees, fauna and clouds, I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, we were pulling up in front of a massive home.

It was white with a wrap-around porch and more windows than I could count. The porch itself was richly appointed with furnishings and carpets and grand, white columns. The second story had another wrap-around porch, with long, glass doors framed by blue shutters.

Mother and Papa Phil sat together on a porch swing, each holding a glass of what I would now guess to be scotch for Mother and brandy for Papa Phil. When Felix opened the back door for me, Mother and Papa Phil stood, and Mother ran to me, her mouth pulled up in a glorious grin, her blue eyes sparkling with joy.

At least, that how she greeted me in my mind.

In reality, she smiled elegantly and stood there waiting.

I drew in a deep breath. Slowly making my way up the porch, I reached Mother and slid myself into her extended arms, which were full of sparkling, shiny bracelets, glittering, gemmed rings, and the glass of scotch. Wrapping my own arms around her slender waist, I let the soft silk of her dress soothe me.

"Careful, Darling, you'll rumple my dress!" She carefully pushed me back. "Isabella, you've finally arrived!"

With her free hand, Mother patted my head, and then I heard a deep chuckle behind me before feeling a larger, stronger hand patting my head as well.

"Isabella, your mother and I are so thrilled to have you here with us for the summer."

I let go of Mother and turned to Papa Phil. He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling in a friendly manner.

"I'm very happy to be here." I stretched out my hand to shake his, as I'd been taught at Miss Tudor's, but he simply chuckled again and pulled me into him, hugging me tightly.

When he took two steps back, he revealed a young girl off to the side, sitting on an upholstered chair behind him. She appeared to be a couple of years or so older than I. Thin and pale, her light pink dress, though undeniably expensive and elegant, only seemed to wash the color from her face. She had a short, wavy, blonde bob she wore close to her scalp, but her features were rather bony, and the short, cropped hair only accentuated the sharpness of her nose and chin. Still, there was an air of sophistication to the way she held her chin, and I knew that I'd never manage to appear so put-together regardless of from where in Europe Mother had my clothing shipped.

The girl stood.

"Isabella, I'd like you to meet your sister, Lauren. She'll be spending every other summer here with us."

We both inclined our heads in greeting. "Pleased to meet you," we said in unison.

I'd known that Papa Phil had a daughter from his first of three marriages. Lauren was twelve years old and lived in California, as did her mother, though Lauren went to boarding school as I did.

"I'm so happy you'll be my sister." Lauren grinned sweetly.

"As am I," I said.

Once we took our seats, a young woman dressed in a black and white uniform brought me a glass of freshly-squeezed lemonade.

"Miss Isabella, would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you," I smiled. Once she went back inside, Mother asked me about my trip, about my ride on the _21st Century Limited_ as well as on the _Union Builder. _She asked me if I enjoyed my accommodations, if I was afforded the care and respect rightfully mine as Phil's daughter, if I'd tried the delicious Baked Alaska in the _Union Builder's_ Dining Hall, if I'd noticed the gold fixtures inside my private bedroom and bathroom, and if I enjoyed the ride inside the Rolls Royce from Seattle to here.

She forgot to ask about Dad or about Uncle Billy and Jacob and the rest of the friends she'd left behind.

Eventually, Papa Phil cut into the conversation.

"Alright, Renee, I think it's time we give Isabella her surprise."

Mother rolled her eyes. "Oh, Phil, are you entirely sure about this? I'm honestly not good with those things."

"Don't worry, my darling," he said. "You won't have to have a thing to do with it."

As he spoke, a young man dressed in a tuxedo stepped out of the house holding a small, brown, wiggling being in his arms - with a red ribbon as big as its head tied around its neck.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"A little birdie told me that you'd always wanted a puppy, but the house you'd lived in before was too small to accommodate one."

To this day, the moment that the young man deposited the puppy on my lap is probably still one of my happiest memories.

"Is she mine?" I asked.

"Yes," Papa Phil answered. "She's all yours."

I picked up the puppy and held her at eye level. She was as light as if I held a stuffed animal instead of a real, live dog, and she had a pair of big, floppy ears that twitched as she stared back at me.

"Now Isabella," Mother said, "You know how I feel about dogs. You'll have to promise to be responsible for her and make sure that I'm not required to look after her or pick up after her. Otherwise, she'll have to go."

I couldn't respond. I was too busy falling in love.

"I'm not very fond of pets either, Mother Renee," I vaguely recall hearing Lauren say. "I'm afraid I won't be able to share in my little sister's joy - though I'll certainly try."

"You're a bright and considerate child, Sweet Lauren," Mother answered.

"Of course Isabella will be responsible for her," Papa Phil answered for me. "She'll take complete care of her, won't you, Isabella?"

I nodded mutely. My puppy gazed at me, inclining her head as if wondering who I was and how I'd fit into her existence. Her ears twitched again, and she swiped at her eye with one paw, making me laugh aloud. She was light brown in color, but she had a huge, white spot smack in the middle of her forehead.

She was the most beautiful being I'd ever seen.

"What kind of dog is she?"

"She's a cocker spaniel," Papa Phil said.

"May I name her?"

"She's yours, Isabella. Unless you come up with a name for her, she'll be wandering around nameless as it seems that neither your mother nor your sister will have any advice on that front," Papa Phil said.

I studied my sweet, little puppy, stroked her soft skin, and nuzzled her nose against mine.

Mother made a soft noise of displeasure. "Isabella, please! Ugh!"

Papa Phil chuckled.

My puppy's fur was the color of sand - the same color of the sand I'd seen that time Papa Phil took Mother and me to the Hamptons on that fateful summer vacation last year.

"Sandy," I breathed. "She's so sandy."

"Sandy, like the dog belonging to that little orphan from the comics," Papa Phil said thoughtfully, studying me for a few seconds. He sighed. "Sandy is a very fitting name."

I stroked and kissed my puppy some more while Papa Phil laughed in a way I'd never really heard from him. Not one of those sad laughs, rather a carefree, fulfilled one.

We stayed out for a while longer, talking, though I honestly didn't contribute much to the conversation, taken as I was with my Sandy.

Then Mother stood. "All right then. Isabella, Mrs. Cope will take you to your room and show you around." Out of my periphery, I saw Mrs. Cope materialize by the door.

"You'll go to her if you should need anything," Mother said.

"Yes, Mother."

"And I mean it, Isabella. The dog must be kept away from me as much as possible and must not make a nuisance of itself, or else we'll have to get rid of it."

"Yes, Mother. I'll make sure she's not a nuisance."

"Very good." She smiled. "Go get yourself settled. I'll see you at suppertime."

"Yes, Mother."

As she walked inside, I watched her move with the grace of a swan that had finally found its real family.

After she left, Papa Phil stood. He looked down at me, hands stuck in his pockets, a full grin gracing his face. Papa Phil was eleven years older than Mother, but he was so very handsome that one would never know.

"I'm truly glad you're here, Isabella."

"Thank you, Papa Phil." And then I hastily added, "And thank you so very much for Sandy."

His grin grew. "It pleases me to know you're happy."

And then he walked inside, and as I stood to follow Mrs. Cope, who was waiting by the door, my eyes met those of Lauren, my new stepsister, and I smiled.

After a few seconds, she returned the smile, but as I'd recently learned that people could smile while being sad, it struck me at that moment that they could also smile while being angry.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next few days were a routine of waking and dressing in one of the fineries Mother had purchased for me during her winter trip to Paris – which had ended sooner than she'd expected due to a riot that had occurred. Afterwards, Papa Phil had ruined the rest of their holiday by insisting that they return to the States.

She had sent me a postcard telling me such.

After breakfast, it was time for my lessons. Mother had hired me a couple of tutors for the summer. Four times a week, after breakfast, I would receive a visit from Mr. Jones, who would continue the rigorous piano lessons I'd been taking at Miss Tudor's. After lunch, Madame Beauchamp would arrive for my intensive French lessons. Lauren, of course, had her own tutors for her own lessons.

After that, I was pretty much free and left to my own devices. I'd walk around the vast grounds of the estate, exploring and playing with Sandy in the often misty and rainy, yet warm weather. There were tennis courts, and Bocce and Croquet fields, and a golf course along with a large swimming pool - which I didn't dare enter. There was also a large, sturdy and very elegant swing set. By the end of the first week, Sandy and I had explored all over the grounds. I'd learned early in the week, on about my third day there, not to count on Lauren for sisterhood, companionship, or a playmate with whom to swing a tennis racket about.

Mother had received a visitor, one of the few women in town of any consequence as she later told me, a Mrs. Stanley, who had a daughter, about Lauren's age named Jessica. Mrs. Stanley and her husband owned the only mercantile store within fifty miles, which is where most people in the area had to go to purchase just about anything.

We'd all sat down for tea, and then Mother and Mrs. Stanley excused themselves as Mother wanted to show Mrs. Stanley the artwork that had just arrived that morning from London.

I was left alone with Lauren and Jessica.

Clearing my throat, I carefully set down my tea cup so that it wouldn't rattle over the china dish.

"Lauren, Jessica, have you both known each other long?"

I tried to use my friendliest voice, and Jessica opened her mouth to respond, but then she gave a startled jump - as if she'd been kicked under the table.

"Don't bother to answer her," Lauren said. "She hasn't yet realized that she won't be around for long. Once Daddy tires of her gold-digging, tramp of a mother, they'll both be back in that shack in Chicago where Daddy found them."

I opened my mouth to tell her that Mother and Papa Phil had actually met at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, but quickly realized that was beside the point.

Then they began talking with each other as if I weren't there.

"…should see the dresses she brought me back, trying to buy my love," Lauren laughed.

"Mother does that with me all the time, and I daresay it works!" Jessica responded. They both giggled.

Jessica gasped suddenly. "Have you seen Masen and Edward yet?"

"No," Lauren grinned. "Why? Should I?"

I stood up and walked out without excusing myself.

OOOOOOOOOO

On the first day of July, 1934, I'd been in Washington for over a week.

Mrs. Cope would look for me around the house every couple of hours, asking me how I was doing, helping me with Sandy, making sure that I'd eaten, that my long hair was brushed and that my bow rested neatly atop my crown, and trying to teach me how to teach Sandy tricks. I didn't know much about caring for dogs, since I'd never had one before. Mostly I played with Sandy and let her run wild while Mrs. Cope warned me that I had to teach Sandy respect.

"Why don't you take another walk around the grounds?" She'd found me early in the afternoon swinging my legs back and forth off the porch, watching Sandy chew on the leg of the wooden porch-swing.

I shrugged. I knew it wasn't lady-like to do so, but in the past few days, I'd learned that Mrs. Cope would allow me to get away with certain things as long as I remembered my manners around Mother.

"Well, I'd tell you to come help me bake some bread, but I don't want you to get in trouble with your mother again for being in the kitchen."

I looked up in front of me, past the huge trees surrounding the property and listened to the sounds of the forest creatures as they sang their early afternoon songs.

"Why don't you do a little exploring off the grounds today, Isabella?" Mrs. Cope suggested.

"I don't want to get lost."

"You won't get lost," she smiled. "The Sol Duc River is a bit over a half mile north of here. It divides your stepfather's property from the nearest neighbors."

"We have neighbors?"

"Well, they're a bit of a ways off, and unless you're taking the roads, the only way to get to their property from here is by taking the small footbridge over the river. As long as you stay on this side of the river, you'll find your way back."

"What if Mother looks for me?"

"You've already had your lessons for the day," she said. "She won't look for you until suppertime."

I slowly stood up, straightening out my dress as I climbed down the steps.

Sandy followed me as I went.

OOOOOOOOOO

As I skipped through the thick, misty forest, I sang a radio tune to myself.

"_They asked me how I knew my true love was true…"_

Sandy skipped along next to me, jumping on my legs and nipping at my heels. So far, there wasn't much to see other than trees and bushes and bracken, but it was exhilarating nonetheless to be out there on my own. I pretended I was a princess or a maiden in one of those novels set in the ancient Celtic Moors, or on the foggy, English countryside. After a while, I removed my shoes, and sighed when I felt the soft, moist grass on my bare feet. I was Jane Clayton, Tarzan's lady love, lost in the wilds of Africa.

In the not-so-far distance, I heard the faint rustling of moving water and assumed it was the river of which Mrs. Cope had talked. Sure enough, after a few steps, I came across a clearing where the huge trees parted and revealed a long, narrow strip of water – the very end of Philip Dwyer's property. The river flowed eastward in a strong current, over protruding rocks and small waterfalls that emptied into the main body. A bit further down was a footbridge, only about five feet off of the water, and about fifteen or so feet long from end to end; it flowed over a particularly rockier though narrower section of river. The footbridge was constructed entirely of the wooden logs that were plentiful here.

"_I of course replied, 'something here inside cannot be denied…'"_

I walked towards the bridge, and then remaining on my stepfather's side, lowered myself to the wet and muddy logs, adjusting my dress in the back to cover my bottom so that I could sit cross-legged and finish my song while listening to the quiet rush of the waterfalls flowing into the river.

Sandy barked and barked at my singing, running back and forth, hopping around like a bunny and making me laugh.

That is, until quick as a flash, and before I even realized she'd done it, she hopped right off of the bridge.

"Sandy!"

I don't even remember standing or thinking or making any sort of conscious decision one way or the other. All I knew was that my Sandy had fallen into the river, and if something happened to her, my life would not be worth living.

The next thing I knew, I was in the water, and the cold sting of the river was biting at my skin, crawling up my legs and between the folds of my dress. A few feet away, I could see Sandy, floating with the current.

"Sandy!"

I tried to follow, but I slipped on a rock and in the next instant, I was under.

When I resurfaced, I barely managed a breath of air and a glimpse of Sandy – who appeared to be paddling for dear life – before I went under yet again.

My arms and legs flailed. My heart hammered in my chest. Some part deep inside of me knew that I was panicking, and that if I could just calm down for a few seconds, I might be able to keep myself afloat long enough to save Sandy's life – and mine.

But the water surrounded me, and all I could imagine was my sinking to the bottom, my lungs filling completely…my dad…crying and standing truly alone.

Then my hair caught on something. I screamed – which only managed to fill my mouth and lungs with even more water. Whatever I'd gotten snagged on – a low-hanging branch or possibly a switch in the way of the current - yanked my head up and out of the water.

But whatever my hair was caught on was moving, dragging me through the river. Then the branch let go of my hair and wrapped itself around my throat.

I choked and gagged.

The branch growled and loosened itself from my throat, instead grabbing my hair again. By now we were at the bank of the river, and the branch fisted my hair hard, depositing me without care or concern over wet and muddy earth, where I landed on my face.

Coughing and wheezing, I sat and wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to stop every organ in my body from attempting to expel itself through my mouth. At the same time, something kept banging me on the back insistently, smacking me hard as I vomited out water and dirt.

"Is she gonna die?" someone asked. It sounded like a young girl.

"No, Dummy," a boy's young voice answered, the voice of the person currently smacking my back.

"If she were gonna die, she wouldn't be puking up all _that_!" Now this voice sounded similar to the boy's voice, but it came from further back, and it was lower; older.

"Should we go get your parents?" yet another voice asked.

"Nah," one of the voices carrying on a conversation around me said. "She'll be okay."

"Sandy," I said in a rough, hoarse voice, abruptly remembering my puppy. "Where's Sandy?"

I tried to stand up, but my legs gave out.

"Who's Sandy?" the girl asked. She knelt in front of me so that I could see her. She had short, black hair, blue eyes and a pretty face full of concern. "Is Sandy the dog?"

When I nodded, she pointed just to the side of me. "She's running around over there."

I turned my face, and sure enough, there was Sandy, wet as a mermaid but none worse for the wear.

Then I turned around completely.

The sun broke through the Washington clouds and shone directly onto the head of the boy behind me, making his red-brown hair glow like a halo against a backdrop of evergreen mountains and evergreen eyes. He was the one who'd dragged me out of the water. I knew this because he was dripping wet from the top of his short, cropped hair to the bottom of his corduroy overalls.

And he was scowling wildly.

"You big dope! What the heck made you jump in there like that?"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI PLAYLIST Song #2: (What Bella was singing as she skipped through the woods):**

_**Smoke Gets in your Eyes (1933),**_** originally performed by Tamara Drasin for the 1933 Broadway musical, Roberta, but first recorded by Gertrude Niesen, with orchestral direction from Ray Sinatra – Frank Sinatra's second cousin. (The song has been covered by many since, most notably by The Platters in 1955): **

_**They asked me how I knew my true love was true.  
**__**I of course replied, something here inside cannot be denied…**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**See you on Thursday. :)**


	4. Chapter 3 - The Cullens

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts.**

**Betad by the great Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – The Cullens**

"You big dope! What the heck made you jump in there like that?"

"I…I…" – the heavy and bitter taste the river water had left on my tongue made it hard for me to speak - "I was trying to save Sandy."

The wet, ruddy-headed boy narrowed his eyes. "The dog? Save her from _what_?"

"Save her from drowning, of course."

The boy stared at me, panting heavily while thick droplets trickled down his face and onto the wet grass. Sandy jumped onto my lap and licked the water off of my own cheeks.

"Listen here, don't you know a thing about dogs?" the boy asked.

Before I could respond that no, actually I didn't, the other, much taller boy chimed in.

"Dogs are better swimmers than humans. They're born knowing how to swim. We didn't even get her out of the water; she got out herself."

"Oh."

They all looked at each other then – and broke out into fits of laughter.

And I dropped my head to my soaked lap while I felt all the blood pool to my face.

"Stop, we're embarrassing her."

I looked up at one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen: with short, blond bobbed hair that unlike Lauren's blond bob, was thick and full and framed the most classic, Hollywood-worthy features.

The girl with the black hair reached out and wrapped her hand around my shoulder.

"Hey, we're not laughing at you, we're laughing with you."

I would've liked to point out that in order to laugh with me, I would actually have to be laughing, but the tall boy knelt next to the black-haired girl and distracted me.

"How many fingers do I have up?" He lifted two fingers up in front of my face.

Frowning, my mind quickly noted the resemblance between both boys as well as the dark-haired girl, though both boys seemed to share similar hair and eye color while the girl had blue eyes. Still, all three appeared to have the same perfectly shaped and defined facial features – as if someone had slowly and methodically etched out their features with the most patient hand.

"Well?"

"Oh! Uhm, two?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" He pulled down my lower eyelid, then proceeded to move his finger back and forth, from left to right. "Follow my finger with your eyes."

I followed the direction of his finger with my eyes.

"What's today's date?"

"Uh…July first, 1934?"

"Are you asking or-"

"I'm telling you."

"Good. Who's the President?"

"Franklin Delano Roosevelt," I said confidently.

"And what's your name?"

"Isabella Marie Swa- Uh, Dwyer. Isabella Marie Dwyer."

And having answered that long set of questions, I wrapped Sandy in my arms and tried to stand again, ready to make my way back home where I could do my best to forget what I was already sure would be the most embarrassing moment of my life.

##########

"And was it the most embarrassing moment of your life, Nana?" Isabella smiles.

"Not by a long-shot," I smirk. "But when you're nine, it's easy to believe it's the end of the world. I had plenty more embarrassing moments, but we'll get to those," I assure her with a nod.

##########

Anyway, before I could reach a fully erect position, my knees gave out, and I fell on my bottom once more while the green and soggy world swayed before me.

"Whoa."

"I really think we should take her back home so that Pop can have a look at her," the dark-haired girl said. "She may have a concoction."

"That's concussion, you dope," the wet boy said.

"You're probably right," the tall boy agreed. "We should take her back to Pop."

They then all looked at the wet boy, very slowly and purposely, as if somehow, he held the answer to the world's dilemmas.

He in turn sucked his teeth and, turning around in a tight circle, fisted his short, dripping hair.

"Arrrgh!" he growled up at the sky, just as I'd imagined Tarzan would do. "Fine! Fine!"

With a curiously satisfied smile, the dark haired girl stood and wiped her hands on her dress. When she reached for my hand, I carefully and warily took it, cradling Sandy in my other arm as I stood. This time, I managed to keep my balance.

"Our pop is a doctor," the dark-haired girl said. "He'll be able to tell if you need to go to the hospital or something."

My eyes widened at that.

"Alice, now you're just scaring her!" the tall boy huffed. He stood too then and addressed me. "Look, you seem just fine, but like Pop says, 'it's better to be safe than sorry.' What if your lungs are full of water right now, and you choke to death in your bed tonight? You wouldn't want that, would you?"

I shook my head hastily. "No. No, of course not."

"All right then. It's settled." And with that, the tall boy walked to the blond girl and took her hand in his.

"Maybe you should carry her, Masen," the blond girl said. "Look at her legs shaking something awful! I don't think she'll be able to make the walk right now."

"You think so, Rosalie?" Tall Masen turned right back to me and took two steps forward.

I took two steps back. "I don't need to be carried."

"What if you pass out and hit your head?" Tall Masen asked.

"I don't need to be-"

Now The Wet Boy planted himself in between us.

"I'll carry her," he volunteered with a firm nod of the head. "I got her out of the water, I'll carry her."

##########

"That's so sweet!" Isabella squeals, clapping her hands. "Your hero offered to carry you!"

I purse my lips. "Now under different circumstances, this may have seemed a very chivalrous offer, but The Wet Boy stood stiff and angry, and he sounded none too happy at the prospect, more like he was volunteering for the draft and taking it like a man."

Isabella laughs heartily.

##########

"All right," Tall Masen agreed. He walked back to Blond Rosalie and took her hand again, walking off while The Wet Boy and I faced off.

"I don't need to be carried," I repeated clearly now that I'd gotten more of that river water out of my throat.

He simply turned around and hunching his shoulders, dropped his head.

"Get on."

I remember wondering if I was still in the middle of that river, being swept away by the current while my dying brain made up impossible scenarios because I was _not_ going to get on a strange boy's back so that he could carry me through the woods!

Or so I told myself for about ten seconds.

Setting Sandy down on the ground, I hesitantly approached the boy. When I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck, he straightened up so swiftly that I gasped. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around his waist to keep from falling. He made a heaving sound as if he were picking up a sack of flour and grabbed my kneecaps, and I sucked in a sharp breath because he was wet and cold, and his soaking overalls were chilling my already wet skin to the bone.

Dark-haired Alice walked next to us while Sandy kept pace on our other side, wagging her tail happily, without a care in the world.

"So you're Philip Dwyer's new daughter?" Dark-haired Alice asked.

"Alice," Blond Rosalie admonished.

"What? I'm just asking!"

"Don't be nosy, Alice," Tall Masen said.

"Sorry," Dark-haired Alice said. "She's just not what I expected is all."

"What did you expect?" I asked.

"Someone more like Lauren," she laughed. "Or even Jessica!"

"You know Lauren?"

Dark-haired Alice rolled her eyes. "We gotta deal with her every other summer at the Independence Day barbecue her daddy throws. Ooh, sorry! I guess they're your daddy and sister now!"

"Papa Dwyer is my mother's new husband, but I already have a dad," I clarified. "And Lauren…well, Lauren isn't my sister."

Dark-Haired Alice bit her lip, as if she were really fighting to keep her mouth closed.

"I'm sorry if I was nosy," she finally said. "I've just never met someone whose parents are divorced."

The Wet Boy, on whose back I was currently being towed, opened his mouth

"Now you're just being a goof. We know people who've been divorced."

"Oh yeah? Like who?" Alice challenged.

"Like Mr. and Mrs. Johnson."

"They weren't divorced! They just had a big fight because he made googley eyes at Mrs. Stanley and Mrs. Johnson made him move out, but the next month they were back at church together, happier than two peas in a pod!"

"How do you know they were happy?" the boy asked.

"Because little Janey Johnson herself told me so in school one day."

Wet Boy stopped and rounded on Alice. Sandy stopped too, looking between them and wagging that tail, panting excitedly.

"You know what, Alice? You spend way too much time beating your gums. You need to learn to mind your own beeswax."

Alice curved her hands around her hips. "Edward, you're just crusty cuz you're gonna get your hide tanned but good when we get home and Mama and Pop see you all wet and-"

"Shut up!"

"I will not!"

"Yes, you will!"

"No, I won't!"

Obviously forgetting his load, the boy stalked over to Alice, and I wasn't sure whether to hold on tighter or let go.

"Yes, you will," the boy hissed, "or I'm gonna-"

"Both of you better stop before I take your heads and bang 'em together 'til they crack, and don't think I won't!" Tall Masen threatened from a few yards away.

The boy and the girl glared at each other for a few tense seconds before resuming their walk. I let go of the breath I'd been holding.

"By the way, I'm Alice, that's Masen, my brother, and our friend, Rosalie, and that's my other brother, _Edward_," she said, exaggerating his name with an eye roll.

"Hi," I said.

"Where are you from, Isabella?" Alice asked.

"From Chicago, but I live in New York now, at Miss Tudor's school."

"Chicago! Wow! Have you ever met Capone? Or Dillinger?"

"New York! What's it like living in New York?"

"Who's Miss Tudor?"

I attempted to address the questions in the order in which they'd been asked.

"I've never met any gangsters," I told Masen. "We actually lived on the outskirts of Chicago, and Mother wouldn't let us visit the city much. She said there was too much crime. She always liked New York more, so I suppose she's happy there now," I told Alice. And finally, "Mother and Papa Dwyer live on Park Avenue, but I'm not in the city, I'm in New Paltz, at Miss Tudor's. It's a school for girls," I told Rose.

Masen sucked his teeth, clearly disappointed by the lack of gangster meetings I'd had.

"But my Dad has taken me to the World's Fair in Chicago twice," I added.

Masen turned to look at me with a grin. "You've been to the World's Fair?"

"Yes. We saw cars from the future, exotic animals from Asia, and the Graf Zepellin."

"Cars from the future?" Now Masen sounded more than a little awed.

I nodded.

When he asked me about the types of cars I'd seen, I responded as best as I could remember. Then Rosalie and Alice asked me about the animals, and I told them about the Panda from China, and the Giraffe from Africa.

"You've seen the Zepellin?"

The question was asked quietly by the boy carrying me, barely loud enough for my ears, much less for those around us.

"Yes," I responded just as lowly.

"What was it like?" Edward practically whispered.

I described it to him as I remembered: its geometric shape, its silver color, and its fish-like tail. I told him how I could feel its engines vibrating.

"Wow." He whistled through his teeth, and I smiled, for some reason insanely happy I'd impressed _him_.

"And it was big," I continued. "So big it blocked out the sun in parts. Then when it landed, is was as big as two Wrigley Fields put together. They let us look around, but they didn't let us on, which Dad said was just as well because people don't belong in the skies like birds."

"Yes, they do," Edward contradicted, in a voice that though still low was full of conviction. "_I'm_ gonna fly someday." When he fell silent, I thought he was done. "Besides," he added after a few moments, "no way was it as big as two Wrigley Fields put together."

"Have _you_ seen it?" I asked.

"No."

"Have _you_ seen Wrigley Field?"

"No." He admitted after a begrudging beat.

"Then how do _you_ know?"

He didn't answer.

"How old are you, Isabella?" Alice asked.

"I'll be ten in two months."

"Pfft, she's only nine – practically a baby," Edward scoffed – loud enough for _all_ to hear.

The four of them stopped walking. Masen and Rose turned and looked at me. So did Alice. Then they looked at Edward and at one another once more, and I got the distinct feeling I was being measured up.

"I am _not_ a baby," I said as firmly as possible.

"She doesn't look like a baby," Alice finally agreed. "I mean she's kinda short but not much shorter than Edward anyhow."

"Yes, she is!" Edward countered.

"No, she's not! Set her down and you'll see!"

There was no warning when he let go of me, and therefore I ended up on my rear end over the muddy earth - again.

"Ow! Hey!"

Without any sort of apology, he reached out and helped me to my feet so quickly my teeth rattled. Then he stood so close that I could see every individual, copper eyelash framing his eyes, how they curved and fanned out around his large, green orbs. There was a fire burning in them, a heat I could feel seeping all the way down into the hand he still had wrapped around mine. I could see the way the color around his pink lips bled just a tiny bit into the edges, and the slight indentation smack in the middle of his chin.

It was also the first time I became acquainted with the dark, round birthmark on the left, underside of his jaw that would become so important to me one day.

And it was true enough, we were almost the same height. That summer, Edward Cullen had maybe an inch, an inch and a half on me.

He wasn't happy about it though – or ready to admit it.

"It's only because the ground here is uneven!"

Masen and Alice laughed aloud while Rosalie chuckled quietly.

Edward scowled and turned back around. "Get back on!" he said through clenched teeth.

"Thank you, but I think I'll walk the rest of the way."

He turned only his head then, looking at me sideways over his shoulder.

His hair was longer in the front, and a few strands fell across his forehead, blocking one eye. It reminded me of Mother last year and our trip to New York with her expensive hat with the netting that cost a week of my dad's salary and that covered one eye to lend her an air of mystery. She was quite aware of her effect.

Edward was just angry.

Strands of drying gold and red stuck up in random directions, and I could see that it was lighter than I'd first thought, much lighter than his brother's, and definitely lighter than his sister's black hair. Twelve-year-old Edward's hair was the color of leaves changing in the fall.

"You almost _drowned_," he said to me. "Get back on!"

And then he faced forward once more, taking two deep, obviously irritated breaths.

"Is she getting too heavy for you there, little brother?" Masen called out, snickering. "I can take over for the rest of the way home if she's too much for you."

"She's a skinny little thing, and she weighs less than the mountain air! Now get on!"

"Now don't go taking it out on her just because you're small for your age." Masen continued. "You know what Pop says. You'll grow when your bones are ready to grow."

"Get on," Edward hissed, ignoring his brother.

I got the distinct feeling that an unpleasant scene might erupt if I didn't climb back on Edward's back. So despite the fact that I really was no longer dizzy, I drew in a deep breath and once more wrapped my arms around his neck, after which he heaved himself up and grabbed me by the back of my knees again.

"Attaboy," Masen said, which Edward thankfully ignored. I remember wanting to tell Masen to stop, wanting to tell Edward that it didn't matter if he was small for his age because obviously he was pretty strong. I mean, he'd plucked me out of the river by himself, and now he'd carried me about a quarter of a mile on his back!

But instead, I said, "Don't call me a baby."

He didn't answer me anyway.

Alice came to walk next to us again.

"Don't mind Edward, he's just cross because he's in a heap of trouble when we get home. He wasn't supposed to be by the river today, and now he's all wet and he won't be able to deny where he was," she chuckled

"Oh."

I felt horribly guilty. If I hadn't been so dumb about dogs and their swimming habits, I wouldn't have jumped in after Sandy, and Edward wouldn't have been forced to jump in after me to prevent an unpleasant drowning.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"Not your fault," he said none-too-convincingly.

"Why weren't you supposed to be by the river?" I asked.

"He was punished for fightin' at Sunday school again," Alice responded for him. "Garrett Smith made fun of how short he is, and Edward punched him in the nose before kicking him right in the-"

"Why don't you shut up, Alice?"

"Why don't you make me, Edward?"

"I mean it," Masen warned. "Both of you shut it."

"Anyway, the four of us don't play with babies," Alice continued, "which we consider anyone under ten, but being you're almost ten, it's good enough."

"Thank you," I said. "How old are all of you?"

"I'm eleven," Alice answered. "Rose and Masen are thirteen, and Edward just turned twelve."

"I didn't _just_ turn twelve," he disagreed.

"You turned twelve last week, Edward," she said.

"It wasn't last week. It was almost two weeks ago now."

"Ooh, you're right. That was a _looong_ time ago," she teased.

This time, I couldn't help chuckling, but when Edward's shoulders stiffened under me once again, I stopped.

I cleared my throat. "Is it much further?"

It would be supper time soon, and I had to get home and change or else Mother would be upset about the state of my dress. What's more, we'd already wandered about a half mile from the river, in the opposite direction from which I'd approached it. That put me at over a mile or so from home. I wasn't so sure I'd be able to find my way back, especially once it got dark.

Alice pointed ahead of us, past Rose and Masen – who'd abruptly let go of each other's hands - and at a cluster of short trees standing sentry a few feet away.

"No. We're practically there. It's just past those trees."

When we broke through the trees and into a clearing, the first thing I saw was a much larger tree just before us. My eyes traveled up and up and up, my neck straining as I tried to see where the branches would finally end and the sky begin.

"It's an evergreen, but the kind that usually grows higher up on the mountains," Edward said, I supposed having noticed me studying the tree. "Down here, it's an anomaly. Do you know what an anomaly is, Little Girl?"

I bristled at his tone.

"An anomaly is something that deviates from what's normal or standard. It's something different from what you'd expect. Something that may not belong where it is."

He was quiet for a moment. "That's right," he then said, surprise tinging his voice. I smiled smugly to myself.

We passed the huge evergreen and the tire-swing hanging from it as we walked down a long, dirt road that wound right past a small, fenced-in corral and an equally small, red barn. There was a noisy hen coop with a few hens squawking about here and there. It all led to a worn, warm-looking white house, where the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen stood out on a porch, shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun.

"Mama!"

Alice launched herself towards the house while her mother took the few steps down and picked her up, swinging her around and kissing her cheek soundly. When Rose and Masen approached, the woman reached out and caressed Rose's cheek before tousling Masen's hair.

Edward stopped in front of her.

"Where have you been, Edward?" the woman asked, though by the way she took in his appearance, and from the slight smirk she gave him, it was obviously a rhetorical question. Her eyes – the same shade as his – moved to me.

"Mama, it was my fault," Masen said before Edward could provide an answer. "I told Edward to come with us to the river, and then the girl fell in and Edward went in after her and-"

The woman's expression changed from wry amusement to urgency.

"Are you all right, child?" When she cupped my cheek, her hand felt as soft as what I'd imagined clouds to be.

"I checked her, but thought it would be best if Pop checked her good and proper," Masen said.

The woman nodded. "Good thinking, Masen. Go fetch your father from the back. Edward, take her inside."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Masen went around the side of the house, and Edward climbed the porch steps, walking us through the screen door. Inside, I found myself in a living room with faded furniture, yet clean and tidy.

"Put her on the couch, Edward," his Mama instructed. "Alice, go get your father's bag."

Edward turned around, releasing his hold on my knees, whereby I released my hold around his neck and fell to the couch, a much softer landing than I'd had in the past hour or so. Alice ran into another room, and Rose took a seat at the end of the couch. Sandy sat on her back paws in front of me.

Not five seconds later, Masen walked in from the back of the room, accompanied by a man with Alice's dark hair and blue eyes. Alice returned with a big, black bag which she placed in front of her dad.

He nudged Edward out of the way. "Take the dog, and tell me what happened." He took my arm and placed two fingers on the inside of my wrist while Edward told the story.

"We were walking towards the river, Sir, and I heard a girl scream. When I got there, she was in the water, head under, so I jumped in and got her out."

Edward's father nodded while he repeated many of the steps that Masen had by the river.

"Follow my finger."

I did – again.

"How long were you in the water before my son found you?"

I wasn't really sure. Edward spoke up again.

"It wasn't long. I heard the splash when she went in, but I got to her quick."

"You know how fast Edward is, Pop. Couldn't a' been more than a few seconds," added Masen.

Their father nodded again. "Can't you swim, Sweetheart?"

"Not very well, sir."

Their father turned, and from his bag, he pulled out an instrument I'd seen before during doctor's visits. I was asked to breathe, to stare into the light, and had a little hammer tapped against my legs.

Apparently satisfied, the doctor took a deep breath and sat back on his legs, smiling pleasantly at me.

"What were you doing in the river if you can't swim?"

Once again, I felt my face flaming as I recalled the laughter by the river. I dreaded having to hear it once more, but it was more than that. If Mother found out that I'd followed Sandy in…that I'd ruined my dress while trying to save Sandy…

Masen snorted. "Would you believe it? She went in after her-"

"She fell in."

I looked up sharply.

Edward was looking at me, but he shifted his gaze quickly to his father as he continued.

"She'd been playing near the footbridge and slipped and fell in."

I stared at him, and for one moment, as our eyes met once more, I remember wondering how he knew, how he'd seen through me that way.

It was the first time he knew, without words, exactly what I needed.

It wouldn't be the last.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #3:**

_**Love in Bloom**_** by Bing Crosby (1934) - though it later became the theme song for Jack Benny.**

_**Can it be the trees that fill the breeze with rare and magic perfume?  
**__**Oh no, it isn't the trees, it's love in bloom!**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	5. Chapter 4 Independence Day Barbecue

**A/N: As always thanks so much for your lovely thoughts. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Independence Day Barbecue **

Mrs. Cullen took me upstairs so that I could change into some of Alice's dry clothes. She gave me some clean undergarments and a green, wrap-around, apron dress that fit a bit loose because I was so much smaller than Alice. Then she carefully bandaged the scrapes I'd gotten on my legs from the underwater rocks, stroking my hair and my arms as she tended to me so that the dark iodine wouldn't sting too much. We headed back downstairs just as Doctor Cullen was returning the telephone receiver back to its cradle on the wall.

"Isabella, I've let your stepfather know what happened. He and your mother will be here shortly."

"Why don't you girls set the table, and we'll have supper while we wait for Isabella's parents?" Mrs. Cullen suggested.

So Alice, Rose and I set the table, and Doctor Cullen led us all in a suppertime prayer like Dad used to do when I was Isabella Swan and lived in Chicago. He thanked the Lord for what they had, for his family's health, and for new friends. Then we ate nice, hot bowls of corn soup and fricasseed chicken with broiled tomatoes, and I marveled at conversations about subjects other than banks, railroads and the latest fashions.

Afterwards, while Masen and Edward walked Rose home, Alice and I sat in the living room listening to Benny Goodman and playing with Sandy.

"We used to have a dog 'til a few months ago," Alice said, stroking behind Sandy's ear, which made Sandy purr more like a kitten than a puppy.

"Really?"

"Mhm. He died of bone sickness."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Alice shrugged. "He was a German Shepherd; you know, one of those big dogs? Edward named him Arrow."

"Arrow?"

"Mhm. Because he was fast."

"Oh."

Sandy abruptly picked her head up and barked, her floppy ears twitching fiercely. Then footsteps on the porch preceded a knock and more barking.

Calmly, Mrs. Cullen set down her knitting, and Doctor Cullen set down his newspaper and drew in a deep breath - the first of many deep breaths I'd see him take when dealing with the Dwyers.

When Doctor Cullen opened the door, Mother walked right past him and Mrs. Cullen. I recall feeling both surprised and elated at her rush to get to me, at a concern so great that it would cause her to completely forget her manners!

"Isabella, my goodness, you look horrendous! What in the world are you wearing?"

"I fell in the river. Edward Cullen saved me, and Alice Cullen lent me a dry dress."

"Your hair!" she exclaimed in horror. "It's an absolute fright! Come here, let me do something about those knots! Where's your dress?"

"Her dress needs washing and mending, Mrs. Dwyer," Mrs. Cullen said gently. "I'll take care of it and-"

Mother didn't turn around to look at Mrs. Cullen. "Thank you, but Isabella's dress is very delicate, and I'd prefer for our personal seamstress to handle it."

"Of course," Mrs. Cullen responded.

Doctor Cullen cleared his throat. "I've examined Isabella, and other than for a couple of small scrapes that we've bandaged, she's just fine."

"I believe a doctor would be better suited to say whether my daughter is alright or not. Isabella, hold still!" Mother said, impatiently licking her thumb and frowning as she tried to wipe something off of my face.

"I _am_ a doctor, Mrs. Dwyer. I'm a vet, Ma'am."

Mother turned around slowly. "A vet, Sir?"

"Yes, Ma'am. A veterinarian. That is, an animal-"

"I know very well what a veterinarian is, Sir. Do you expect me to accept treatment for my _human_ daughter from an animal doctor?"

Doctor Cullen's mouth twitched. "I assure you, Mrs. Dwyer, I'm quite capable of treating humans as well. I've been doing it for years. And my wife is quite capable as well. Many of our neighbors come to us for medical attention and-"

She held his gaze. "This is a farm, isn't it, Doctor Cullen?"

There was a beat of silence, and then a quiet sigh.

"Yes, Mrs. Dwyer. I'm a farmer as well as a veterinarian."

"_Doctor_ Cullen, I mean no disrespect, but I'm sure you'll understand why I'd prefer to have Isabella examined by a _real_ doctor."

Doctor Cullen's calm expression didn't waver. "Of course, Ma'am."

"Another examination won't be necessary."

Papa Phil had been standing by the door. He removed his hat before walking into the house, tall and regal in his dark suit. He nodded his greetings towards Doctor and Mrs. Cullen, and then carefully nudged Mother aside, kneeling in front of me.

"How do you feel, Isabella?"

"I feel just fine, Sir."

"Any broken bones?" A teasing smile spread across his face, making his thick mustache twitch.

"No, Sir," I chuckled, "no broken bones."

"That's good to hear." He held my gaze thoughtfully for a few seconds, and with his eyes still on me, he said, "Carlisle and Esme have both been the providers of medical attention around these parts for years, Renee. Carlisle is university trained, and Esme comes from a long line of healers. Everyone trusts them, including myself. No, another exam won't be necessary. Isabella may be small, but she's a strong girl. Besides, falls, scrapes and near drownings are all part of growing up."

"Perhaps Doctor and Mrs. Cullen are capable healers here in the mountains of Washington, and perhaps falls and scrapes are part of growing up here in the middle of nowhere," Mother answered tightly, "but back in New York City, where we _should_ be spending the summer, things are very different."

Papa Phil stood to his full height, which was an impressive one, I'll tell you. He turned to Mother with a smile, but it was one of those aforementioned strange smiles – one of those smiles that wasn't really a smile at all.

"Things are certainly different in New York City, Darling, which is why we're here for the summer, not there. And here, Isabella could not have fallen into better hands. Here, every child has the opportunity to run wild; the opportunity to fall and get right back up again. It's what I did as a child, and it's what my children _will_ have the opportunity to do as well."

There was no room for dispute in Papa Phil's tone. Mother blinked profusely, but otherwise didn't respond.

With a smile still on his face, Papa Phil turned back to Doctor Cullen.

"Where are the boys, Carlisle?"

"They're walking the Hale girl back home."

Papa Phil nodded. "You'll be coming to the Independence Day Barbecue?"

Once again, I thought I saw Doctor Cullen release a small sigh. "Of course, Philip. We're there every year, aren't we?"

Once more, Papa Phil nodded. Both men held each other's gazes for a few seconds, but it wasn't until many, many years later that I could even begin to guess what was going through either's mind.

When Papa Phil finally turned to Mrs. Cullen, the smile he'd been wearing for the past couple of minutes seemed much more genuine. He gave her a small bow.

"Have a good night, Esme. And thank you…both...very much for tending to Isabella."

"It was our pleasure. Good night, Philip."

Once more, he turned to Mother. "Renee, Darling, I believe once you thank Carlisle and Esme for taking care of our daughter, we'll be ready to go."

Mother held his gaze - her nostrils flaring slightly - and then grabbed my hand.

"Isabella, thank Doctor and Mrs. Cullen."

"Thank you so much, Doctor and Mrs. Cullen," I smiled.

"You're very welcome, Child," Mrs. Cullen responded tenderly.

Then Mother pulled me towards the door. "Come along, Isabella. Let's go."

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day, we had visitors. One of Papa Phil's business partners and his family, who had come over from New York City, would be spending the week with us.

The Vandernecks were what I'd later learn were known as, "old money."

Mother flitted around nervously that morning, directing her servants to clean and re-clean, moving furniture and fixtures, and generally turning the entire estate upside down.

If I remember correctly, Mrs. Vanderneck was in her mid-fifties at the time: a tall, full-figured woman who looked pretty comical standing next to her much shorter and much thinner husband. As I'd later find out, she and Mr. Vanderneck had tried for ages to have a child, and in their early forties, they had finally been blessed in the form of Peter William Vanderneck, a gift from God himself, and a child who could do no wrong. Peter was a tall, slim thirteen-year-old, who personified his Dutch heritage with hair so platinum it was almost white and eyes as blue as the sky.

Now having been given permission to run wild by my stepfather, I was less than eager to spend more than the necessary time indoors with Peter Vanderneck, but Mother, unfortunately, had other ideas.

"Isabella, why don't you and Lauren show Peter around the grounds?"

"Isabella, why don't you and Lauren show Peter the model train set your father has set up in the game room?"

"Isabella, why don't you and Lauren sit next to Peter so that you can keep him company during supper?"

All these forced activities Peter bore with the grace of a martyr: barely saying a word to either one of us, rolling sky blue eyes at everything, and making no effort to disguise his level of dissatisfaction. To his credit, he didn't treat Lauren any better than he treated me; rather, he treated us both with the equal indifference and disdain we deserved as part of the "_nouveau riche._"

Though Peter's apathy was fine by me, it didn't sit well with Lauren. She batted her eyelashes, giggled sweetly, described her expensive dresses and her huge home in California to him in minute detail, to which he showed no outward sign of having heard – or cared.

The morning of Independence Day, Mother was in yet another uproar. It would be her first time hosting the annual Independence Day Barbecue that Papa Phil held every year here in Washington for both business associates from Washington as well as the town folk of Forks.

"It's our chance to show everyone just how lucky and blessed we are!" she told me.

So with all the yelling and screaming going on that morning, no one seemed to hear the doorbell ringing.

When I answered, Alice Cullen was on the other side, holding up the white, patent leather shoes I thought I'd lost by the river, as well as my dress – which had been mended, freshly washed and pressed.

"Thank you," I said, taking the items from her.

"Want to go play?"

I looked behind me at the rest of the people who lived and worked here scurrying about anxiously, and I thought perhaps it would be best for all if Sandy and I made ourselves scarce until the barbecue.

"Yes."

OOOOOOOOOO

We ended up by the river, where I was surprised to see Rose and Masen wading in the water. Masen was shirtless, with his trousers folded up to his thighs, and Rose wore a red, one-piece that came to her mid-thighs.

"Where is Edward?" I asked.

"He's punished – again," Alice snorted, and then without pause added, "Do you want to go in?"

Despite everything, I considered it; I really did. You're invincible at that age; danger is only an abstract idea. So it wasn't the fear of death that kept me out. It was the recollection of how cold I'd been inside that river.

"I'd better not. I can't swim very well –as you know," I grinned.

"The river is much calmer today, and we can teach you to swim," Rose offered.

"No, but thank you. I promised my dad I'd wait for him to teach me when I return to Chicago before the end of the summer."

With a shrug, Alice stripped to her camisole and underwear and jumped into the water, and I sat with my legs hanging off of the small footbridge. The cool, river water splashed against my legs and all the while, we talked and laughed while Sandy hopped in and out of the water like a mermaid. It was a wonderful couple of hours.

"Why haven't you gotten another dog?" I asked Masen and Alice.

"Arrow was mostly Edward's dog," Masen said. "He's the one who trained him; he used to sleep in his room, and…well, he's dead set against another dog."

After a while, Alice got out of the river and came to sit with me. Her short, black hair stuck up wildly as it dried.

"Is she his sweetheart?" I asked, jerking my chin towards Rose and Masen, who were in the water giggling and splashing each other.

"Yup, but none of the adults know, so you can't say anything, okay?"

"Okay, but why?"

"Because they're only thirteen, and her mama doesn't want her having babies too young, like she did."

"Oh."

OOOOOOOOOO

I remember the exhilaration I felt the first time I swung on the tire-swing under the evergreen by the Cullen's house. Soaring so far above the ground, with majestic green mountains before me, the insistent breeze on my back, blowing my hair into my face and making me scream, I was sure I'd reach those mountains if only I swung just a bit harder. And I tried. I tried for years.

##########

"Was it this tire-swing, Nana?" Isabella asks, pushing herself to and fro on the swing while the afternoon breeze whips up her beautiful, long hair.

"Well, now if I answered that, we'd be getting ahead of ourselves in the story, wouldn't we?" I say.

She laughs. "Okay, Nana. Please continue."

##########

Alice and I played by the swing, but then she had to go use the bathroom, and when five minutes turned to ten, I decided to go look for her.

As I neared the house, I heard saxophones and trombones coming from somewhere behind. With Sandy at my heels, I searched for the source of these sounds, which led me through a set of doors that led to the rear of the house.

The bright room smelled faintly of alcohol, cleaning agents, wet fur and animal feces. It had about a dozen cages all around the walls, mostly small and medium-sized, but a couple that appeared big enough to hold a cow or a small pony. In one of the small cages, there was a grey cat, its furry chest rising and falling with each sleepy breath. Two of the medium sized cages on the floor each held dogs, also asleep.

Edward had half of his body inside one of the empty cages - scrubbing hard and whistling away to the beat of the radio music.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Edward rose up quickly - apparently forgetting that his head was inside a cage. The ensuing thud was quite loud - and pretty painful sounding.

"Damn!"

The oath woke the cat, who hissed and meowed its disapproval. The two dogs began barking and howling in unison, and Sandy, at my heels, insisted on joining in on the melee.

It was quite the chorus.

Removing himself from the cage, Edward turned around, rubbing his head. His bright, green eyes grew wide, and his face flushed an irritated shade of burgundy. Quickly walking to the cat's cage, he spoke firmly.

"Down! Quiet!"

He walked to each cage and repeated the command, and soon, the barking and meowing stopped.

Sandy, now in my arms, calmed down as well.

"I'm sorry," I said, once the animals were settled. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He barely spared me a sideways glance. Walking off to a corner, he knelt and proceeded to rinse off his sponge in a bucket of what appeared to be soapy water.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Alice and thought she might be in here. What are you doing?"

Squeezing off the excess soapy water from his sponge, he looked up, and I remember being struck by just how green his eyes were.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning cages."

"Is this part of your dad's office?"

He nodded, looking around. "This is where we keep the sick animals that have to stay overnight."

I approached the occupied cages. "What's wrong with them?" Reaching out, I stroked the soft mane of one of the resting dogs.

Edward stood again. "Well, that dog hurt his paw on a sharp piece of wood. We bandaged it up good, but he's running a bit of a fever so we've got to keep an eye on him. And that dog needs to be dewormed, and don't touch that cat!"

I'd been just about to stroke the cat, but now quickly pulled back my hand.

Edward laughed. "That dumb cat wandered out into the woods and was stupid enough to get into a fight with something very angry. We're waiting to see if he's rabid." He kept laughing, holding his stomach.

"Is this part of your punishment?" I asked.

That put a stop to his laughter. "How'd you know I was punished?"

"Alice told me."

"Figures," he smirked, "beating her gums again." He walked back to the cage he'd been cleaning before.

"Why are you punished?"

Edward shrugged and kept scrubbing.

"Do you have to clean all of these?"

"Yup."

"Do they smell bad?"

"Yup."

"Do you have another rag?"

This gave him pause. "What for?" he asked suspiciously.

"So that I can help, of course."

He turned to look at me again. "Now why in the world would a little girl like you want to help clean a bunch of dirty, stinkin' cages?"

"Because it's my fault that you're here."

For a few seconds, he simply stared at me.

"Listen here, Little Girl, I'm cleaning these cages because I punched a stupid kid in the mouth for saying something stupid, see? It ain't got nothing to do with you."

I placed my hands on my hips, the way I'd seen Mother do often.

"Punching that boy was what first got you in trouble, but then you were forbidden from going to the river, and you went anyway, yet your parents would've been none the wiser had you not jumped into the river to save me from drowning. So you see, it's my fault that on the day of our nation's independence, you're cleaning cages instead of enjoying what seems to be a rare, sunny day in these parts."

There was more staring done on his part.

"How old did you say you were again, Little Girl?"

"Almost ten, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me Little Girl."

He quirked a ruddy brow. "You want to help? All right, fine. But that dog needs to stay out of the way or else you're both out of here."

He made a grand, sweeping motion of invitation, and I moved towards the corner where the buckets of soapy water and extra rags awaited.

OOOOOOOOOO

We spent the next couple of hours scrubbing and cleaning animal cages while listening to Leo Reisman and Bing Crosby. Alice had eventually found me and begrudgingly joined in the scrubbing. Meanwhile, Sandy stayed out of trouble by playing with the rags, dragging them from one end of the room to the other. Every so often, Edward would sneak a wary peek at her.

As for me, I snuck my own curious peeks – at Edward. He was short for his twelve years, yes. _I_ was petite for my age, and that summer, Edward was barely an inch above me. Yet there was maturity in his face, an intensity that hinted of strength, even then. He wore a white tee shirt and a pair of old, folded up slacks, and as young as he was, I could see he lacked the softness in his arms and legs that most boys his age had. His arms were lean and sinewy; the veins in his hands and forearms protruded as he scrubbed. And though he obviously wasn't happy about his punishment, he scrubbed those cages until they shined.

"Well, there's only one cage left. Let's go, Isabella!"

Alice dropped her rag and ran out, knocking down one of the empty cages in her haste. Metal crashed against concrete, making a resounding racket that vibrated for a handful of seconds and woke the sick and injured pets – again. The chorus of animal howls went up once more.

Edward sucked his teeth and flung his rag across the room.

"Damn little girls," he complained, once again attempting to quell the ensuing unrest.

"Well, that's not a nice thing to say at all," I said defensively.

He didn't respond, and in less than a minute, he had the animals settled again.

"You're good with them. Are you going to be a vet like your dad?"

He snorted. "And get stuck here for the rest of my life? No, Siree. I've got bigger and better plans."

I was about to ask what those plans were when Alice called my name from outside - loudly.

"Go on. She's waiting for you."

I don't know why I hesitated. All I knew was that I didn't really want to go despite the fact that my arm ached from all the scrubbing, and that it still didn't smell like roses and chocolate in there.

"Are you coming to my house later for the Independence Day Barbecue?"

"I suppose," he responded. He was kneeling by the buckets again, cleaning out all the rags we'd used. "We go every year so that rich, old Mr. Dwyer can show off all his millions."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I turned to leave.

"Hey, Little- I mean, _Isabella_?"

I turned around.

"Thanks…for helpin.'" He shrugged.

My ensuing grin was as wide as could be. "You're welcome. See you later!" And just as Alice yelled my name again, I ran out of there.

OOOOOOOOOO

Mrs. Cope had been waiting for me when I got home. She thanked the Lord that I hadn't been drowning somewhere before quickly ushering me to my room to bathe and dress. She seemed pleased when I told her I'd been with the Cullens.

"Ah, I'm glad to know you've made friends with the neighbors, Isabella."

I was given a deep red, pleated skirt to wear along with a white blouse that had a blue collar. She brushed out my long hair, taking her time with each section despite how late she claimed we were. Then she carefully tied in a red ribbon.

"Mrs. Cope, back at school and here, almost all the girls have short hair, even Alice."

Mrs. Cope set the brush down and turned me to face her. "Child, you have the most gorgeous head of hair I've ever seen. Even prettier than your mama's," she whispered. "It would be a sin to cut it off."

"That's what my dad says," I smiled.

Mrs. Cope turned me around and stroked my cheek. "You're a lovely child, Isabella. Don't ever forget that."

The Dwyer Independence Day Barbecue was a town event. Everyone in Forks was invited, and everyone seemed to be in attendance that summer - my first summer there.

Mother wore a beautiful, white pleated skirt, similar to my red one. She looked elegant and refined in her red, silk blouse, and her necklace of what I would later recall as blue sapphires, huge and flawless.

She was the perfect hostess to all, proud to be Mrs. Dwyer and even prouder to be the mistress of everything around us as far as the eye could see. Papa Phil stood majestically at her side, tall and dignified in his three-piece suit. Lauren, in her blue, pleated skirt, and I stood as two sisters with them. We were the perfect, wealthy American family.

When the Cullens finally arrived, I ran straight to them. But I made other friends too, children that would surround me for the next few summers of my life…Jessica, Tyler, Michael, Rebecca, Garrett, and…so many more whose names and faces are now a blur.

As the sun set, daylight faded into a smoky evening lit by torches and lamps. Fireflies abounded like fallen stars. We chased and ran after them while Sandy chased after us. Even Peter, in all his nobility joined in; though tall and lanky, he appeared to have a hard time catching fireflies.

"Isabella, why don't you catch one for Peter," Mother suggested. She stood off to the side with Papa and a couple of other friends, sipping from their glasses.

I caught one and Peter hunched down so that his clasped hands met mine, and I carefully put it inside his palms. We watched it glow on and off, like a beautiful lantern.

"Isn't that lovely, Peter?" Mother asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Dwyer," Peter responded. Then without a word, he dropped his hands and walked away. I quickly caught the firefly so that I could hold her between my palms for just a few more seconds, and I was so spellbound that I only vaguely heard the tail end of Papa Phil's sentence:

"…too young for you to be match-making…" he chuckled.

Mother laughed again, yet with all the other noises around, I only heard, "…never too young to make the right connections, Darling."

It meant nothing to me at the time. Oh I know the meaning is obvious now. But remember, I was barely ten at the time. The only thing that struck me as odd was the deep frown on Edward's face.

You see, he'd come to look at the firefly buzzing about between my palms.

OOOOOOOOOO

As night fell, the liquor flowed freely, the neighborhood and friends indulged in treats that most of them could barely afford at the time, and the laughter grew louder.

Then it was time for the fireworks Papa Phil had shipped from New York. Red, white and blue exploded in the night sky, raining down on us and making Alice and I squeal in delight. The boys ran around trying to catch the falling sparkles, and Sandy ran along with them while the girls and I watched from the large swing-set, set far enough back so that we wouldn't burn to death yet close enough that every explosion rumbled through our hearts.

We screamed with every burst and flare, marveling at the inferno in the sky, so that between the loud eruption of rockets, the band, and the beating of my heart, I failed to realize that some of the screams came from adults screaming in horror.

"Edward's fightin' again!" someone said, and forgetting the airborne display of national glory, we all took off running.

He was on top, pummeling his opponent while Doctor Cullen struggled to wrap his arms around his son's waist.

"Edward, enough!" Carlisle roared, yet it took both him and Masen to finally get Edward off of Peter.

The fireworks ended, the band stopped playing, and the neighbors stopped drinking.

Mr. Vanderneck pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his son's bloodied nose while Mrs. Vanderneck stroked his head and cried.

"What in the world has gotten into you, Son?" Carlisle yelled.

When Tarzan was a boy, had he had green eyes, copper hair and worn grass-stained grey trousers and a muddied white, button down instead of a flimsy piece of material around his privates, I'm sure he would've looked just as Edward did in that moment: A wild boy. Face flushed, nostrils flaring, and hands fisted at his sides while he glared murderously at Peter.

But he didn't answer Doctor Cullen, and when Mr. Vanderneck asked Peter the same question, he received the same lack of response.

In the end, no amount of questioning produced any sort of response from either boy.

Doctor Cullen grabbed Edward by the collar and turned him around.

"Apologize to Mr. Dwyer for fighting at his party."

Edward remained silent.

"I said apologize!"

"I apologize," Edward gritted through his teeth.

"And apologize to the boy for-"

"I ain't apologizing to him."

There was a finality to the statement that made Mr. and Mrs. Vanderneck gasp and Carlisle clench his jaw.

"I apologize for my son's behavior. I don't know what got into the boy."

"Boys will be boys," Papa Phil said.

"Yes, well," Doctor Cullen responded, sounding quite uncomfortable. "I'll be taking my boys home now. Masen, please gather your mother and sister and meet us in the front."

And without another word, Doctor Cullen marched Edward out of our backyard barbecue, and I stared after him in the darkness while the light from the torches and fireflies illuminated him in a red glow.

When he turned around, he met my gaze for about two seconds before Doctor Cullen shook him and forced him to face forward.

Then he was out of sight.

"What do you think they were fighting over?" I asked Alice before she left.

"Same thing Edward always fights over. Peter probably made fun of his height."

And for the rest of the evening, I wondered how in the world that fight had started when we'd all been having so much fun.

It wasn't until much, much later that I found out that had been the first time Edward fought to defend me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #4: **_**The Very Thought of You**_** by Ray Noble &amp; His Orchestra**

_**The very thought of you and I forget to do  
**__**The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do.**__**  
**_

_*****_**The next chapter will be the final 1934 chapter. We needed to set a foundation. :)**

**IMPORTANT NOTE:**

***** Thursday is Thanksgiving, and as I'm sure most you will be doing, I'll be eating, laughing and fighting with my extended family. Therefore, there will be no update this Thursday. I'll see you guys bright and early on Monday though!*****

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!**


	6. Chapter 5 - My Hero

**A/N: Thank you so much for your thoughts.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 – My Hero **

The Vandernecks' returned to New York a few days later, no worse for their sojourn into the mountains of Washington save for the black eye and swollen lip Peter would be sporting for a few more days. Mother apologized for her barbaric neighbors all the way to the door.

Nevertheless, you'd think being slugged by Edward would've negatively affected Peter's attitude towards Forks all the more, but quite the opposite was true. Peter appeared to accept his time in Forks much more gracefully afterwards. He still tended to stay close to his father, yet he joined me in the back yard more than once and even played with Sandy a bit, attempting to help me teach her tricks; though neither of us got very far with that.

Go figure.

Yet I still couldn't put the image of the fight that had occurred under the burning sparks of the fireworks out of my mind. I'd considered asking Peter about it, but then I decided that if I ever did hear the story, I'd want it to be from Edward.

The Vandernecks' finally did leave, and the following day, after my lessons, I made it to the river and to my friends – minus Edward. This time, I didn't need to ask why. I assumed he'd be cleaning cages for the foreseeable future.

So for the next few days, we played by the river, and Masen - who absolutely loved animals and who, unlike Edward, _was_ planning on taking over his father's vet practice once he got older – was the next one to try to help me teach Sandy to sit, roll over, and stay, and just generally be an obedient dog.

After another failed dog training session, Masen shook his head.

"Little Sister," – he'd taken to calling me the same thing he called Alice - "either your dog is the dumbest dog in creation, or I'm doing something seriously wrong here. And if it's the latter, please keep it quiet, or I'll never make it into veterinary school."

Choosing to believe the latter, I agreed to keep it quiet.

And so Sandy continued to run wild.

One July morning, I showed up at the river and was greeted by the site of a copper-haired boy banging his fists into his bare chest and yelling into the wooded air.

Edward's long string of punishments appeared to be over.

He jumped off the footbridge straight into the river. Sandy, seeing such a display of unbounded courage, ran to join him.

Imitating Sandy, I ran over the short footbridge, and while they all splashed in the water, I removed my black patent-leather shoes and placed them aside. Smoothing down the back of my dress, I sat down and dangled my legs over the edge of the bridge, quietly enjoying the droplets that splashed me.

"Come on! I'll take on all of you!" Masen howled when Edward jumped on his back, and Rose and Alice joined in the fray. It wasn't until they saw Sandy join in the mix, barking and yipping in her tiny voice, that they looked up and saw me.

"Isabella, you're finally here!" Alice called. "Come on in, Isabella! Come on! We're trying to drown Masen!"

I smiled. "I'd rather not join in any drownings."

Edward watched me, his eyes bright and so much like the rich hue of forestry surrounding us.

"_Now_ you're scared of the river, Little Girl?"

"I am _not_ scared." I lifted my chin.

He smirked, clearly not believing me. "Come on in and prove it then."

"But I don't have on a swimsuit."

Masen snorted. "Just come in in your skivvies the way Alice does. Neither one 'a you got anything to hide yet anyways."

Standing, I untied the belt ribbon behind my pale, yellow sundress before undoing the buttons down the front. Then I stripped down to my hand-knit drawers and camisole.

"Don't jump!" Edward ordered. "Jumping ain't for amateurs."

I pressed my lips together to keep from reacting to the cold while Alice and Rose took my hands and slowly eased me off the bridge, yet I still landed in the water with a splash that made me yelp. Submerged to just below my shoulders, I was just a tad bit frightened, colder than I'd been all summer – and so exhilarated I squealed in delight just like the little girl Edward kept accusing me of being.

Everyone laughed.

"It feels good, right?" Alice asked.

"It feels wonderful!"

"All right, all right," Edward said, getting the group back on track. "Now Masen is an enemy machinegun air-fighter, and we've got to shoot him down! ATTACK!" he roared.

And we all jumped Masen.

OOOOOOOOOO

The summer weeks consisted of my tending to my lessons in the mornings while the Cullens and Rose tended to their chores. Afterwards, we'd all meet by the river. Some days, it rained too much to go into the water, and we'd just hang out on the bridge or by the big evergreen on the Cullen's property, swinging on the tire swing, talking and laughing while Sandy ran circles around us, licking and nipping and barking. Sometimes I'd carry her like she was an infant child, and just like one, she'd curl herself around me. If she did something naughty, she'd give me her sweet, puppy-dog eyes and all would be forgotten – at least by me. Then she'd wag her tail and flap those long, floppy ears, and…God, I loved that dog. Even if she wouldn't come when called or sit or stay. And even if she may have had a problem understanding that she must only relieve herself outside, and the furniture, good God, the furniture…

"Isabella Marie Dwyer!" Mrs. Cope yelled one day as Sandy and I were running down the porch steps, leaving for the river. I cringed at her tone because Mrs. Cope only used that tone for one purpose.

"That darn mutt has gone and left another mess under the stairs!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cope. I'll clean it."

"Never mind cleaning it. I'll take care of it, but Isabella, I will warn you that the servants are gettin' ready to choke that dog, and if that dining room table falls over on your mother due to how chewed up them legs are, Lord help you and that dog." She shook her head, her hands around her wide hips. "You need to put the fear of God into that beast."

"I'm trying, Mrs. Cope," I said.

"Mmhm," she said, giving me a skeptical eye while she looked between me and Sandy – who sat innocently on her bottom, panting happily.

OOOOOOOOOO

On one breezy, misty day, we were playing by the evergreen when I realized Sandy wasn't around. My eyes scanned the horizon, and leaving the others behind, I went searching.

I didn't have to search too far. She was just beyond the line of trees that separated the Cullen's back property from the encroaching woods.

And she was with Edward.

He was kneeling on the soggy grass, face to face with Sandy, both of them still as statues even as I approached.

"What are you doing?" I whispered in Edward's ear. He didn't move; the only proof that he was a living being was the way his chest rose and fell with his breaths, his bare arms golden-pink and goosefleshy. It relieved me, this proof that he was flesh and blood despite how still he was.

Finally, keeping his eyes on Sandy, he spoke. "I'm going to train this damn dog to be obedient if it's the last thing I do. Now leave us be."

Walking away backwards, I slunk down to the ground a few feet away to wait and see what Edward had planned.

"Sit!" Edward said, strong and firm.

Sandy stared at him.

"Sit!" he repeated.

Nothing.

This command was given more than a few times to no more a response than a wagging tail.

Slow as molasses, Edward reached out and placed his open palm on the back of Sandy's neck, pushing her behind to the ground.

"Sit!" he commanded, louder and rougher.

As soon as he let go, Sandy stood on all fours again.

Edward pushed her down once more, repeating the process over and over. I'll admit it began to bore me. After about forty-five minutes of just sitting there, my behind was cold from the wet earth, and I'd taken to entertaining myself by catching the now falling raindrops on the tip of my tongue.

"Sit! Good girl, there you go. Good girl."

My eyes snapped back to Edward and Sandy.

"Sit!"

Without any pushing or forcing on Edward's part, Sandy dropped her behind to the ground - and stayed there.

"Good girl!"

Leaving the raindrops behind, I ran to Edward and Sandy, watching with wide eyes as Edward repeated the technique.

"You try now, but don't say it in your little girl voice," he smirked. "Say it loud and firm."

I turned to Sandy. "Sandy, sit."

"Not like that, Little Girl! You've gotta show her who's in charge!"

"Sit!" I roared.

As soon as Sandy dropped her bottom to the ground, I flung myself into Edward's arms and kissed his cheek soundly.

"Oh, Edward! Thank you! Thank you! Now Mother's servants won't choke Sandy, and Mrs. Cope and I can teach her to poop outside, and Mother won't absolutely die when the dining room table falls over!"

I must've caught him off guard when my small, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his neck because it was a while before I felt his hands on my shoulders – pushing me away.

"All right, all right, that's enough," he mumbled.

I backed up. "You're my hero, Edward." I grinned up at him because he was, and when you're ten years old, there's no reason to hide your feelings.

But right then and there, Edward simply rolled his eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

At the very end of July, Esme and Carlisle invited me to supper again.

I spent a lot of time with them between playing with the kids by the evergreen or in the house when the weather didn't suit outside play. We tended to wander into Doc Cullen's vet clinic and watch him as he tended to his animal patients: a sick dog, a cat full of hairballs, a cow who wasn't producing or a horse who was limping. Now if he was tending to human patients, we were summarily told to skidaddle on out of there and go help Esme in the kitchen – which I also loved doing.

"I don't like that idea at all, Isabella," Mother said at breakfast when I told her I'd been invited. "Those Cullen children are wild, especially that Edward! I am _still_ writing to Mrs. Vanderneck apologizing for that incident!"

"But Mother, they're my friends."

Mother set down her tea cup. "Isabella, take a look at your sister, Lauren."

Obediently, I looked at Lauren, who sat across from me. She smiled – one of those smiles we've talked about.

"Now Lauren spends her days in constructive endeavors. When she does entertain friends, it's children such as Jessica or Peter. Isabella Darling, you have to rise in your social circle not swim below it!"

"Very true, Mother Renee," Lauren agreed. "I would love to spend more time with my little sister if she would only stay indoors a bit more!"

I blinked at her a few times before once more turning to Mother.

"Please, Mother. The children aren't that wild at all."

"Isabella, I said-"

"Isabella, of course you may go."

Mother turned her steely, blue eyes towards Papa Phil, who was sitting at the other end of the table reading his morning paper.

"Renee, Darling, these are our neighbors for the summer, and the girls have to learn to interact and associate with all of them, regardless of their social standing. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to spend some more time with them as well. Might help with the boredom you're experiencing this summer." He lifted a brow and once more returned to his paper, discussion clearly over.

Mother watched him, chewing on her lip fiercely as if trying really hard not to say whatever she was thinking. Therefore, I was more than a little concerned when her frown abruptly morphed into a smile, one of her blinding smiles that I recalled would get her just about anything when they'd been directed towards my dad, Charlie.

"Do you know what, Darling, I think you're probably right. I should spend more time with our neighbors, shouldn't I? That barbecue, for example, was lovely - except for that fight of course." She shuddered. "Perhaps if we…yes, I know! We should have another party!"

Papa Phil set down his paper. "Another party?"

"Yes! A party to celebrate Isabella's tenth birthday! Oh Phil, my poor Isabella has never had a real birthday party." Her lips trembled. "Her father…he couldn't afford to give her one, and…my poor child was deprived of that joy."

Papa Phil turned to me, his eyes full of tenderness, a pitiful, sad tenderness that made his big, blue eyes water.

##########

"She was playing him!" Isabella, laughs. "She was playing him like a damn fiddle! How the hell couldn't he see that? It was plain as day!"

"Well, I never said he couldn't see it, Sweetheart. There was much I didn't see yet at my tender age, yet Papa Phil…there are things that happened afterwards…" I shake my head. "But once again, I'm getting ahead of myself."

"So what happened, Nana?" Isabella asks. She's stopped swinging, her big, golden eyes large and absorbed.

##########

Well, Papa Phil agreed, of course. How could he deny me a birthday party when I'd been so previously deprived?

Mother immediately went into planning mode. It would be grander than the Independence Day barbecue. Menus were discussed, themes chosen, and I was informed that I was to play one of the piano pieces that Mr. Jones had been going over with me that summer.

"So that everyone can see what a cultured child you are!" Mother beamed.

As time was so short, invitations went out immediately for the last week of August. My birthday was actually mid-September, but that was beside the point.

Oh yes, and I was allowed to go to the Cullens for supper whenever it suited me as where I spent my days became even less of a concern to Mother while she planned another gala.

OOOOOOOOOO

The weeks passed. The warmth of July's days morphed into the cool evenings of late August, and the day of my birthday party arrived.

The day before, my dress had arrived from New York: a pure silk, white georgette dress created in sixteen panels that fell longer in the back than in the front. It exposed my skinny, knobby knees, but there was fullness at the cascading hem, which made it swish beautifully when I pivoted. The satin bodice was hand-beaded, Mother told me, as was the sequined ribbon belt. The matching, jeweled hairpiece fell just at my hairline like one of those princesses from fairy-tales. Simple, yet elegant white satin flats finished the outfit.

Mrs. Cope escorted me downstairs because Mother was once more playing the part of the perfect hostess. Servants rushed around in their best uniforms, handing out goblets of champagne and small aperitifs while taking furs and jackets.

When all our guests had finally been received, I wandered into the backyard where Alice said she'd be waiting for me. On my way to her, I ran into Lauren and Jessica.

"Ridiculous. It's like dressing up an Okie in finery," Lauren loudly whispered in Jessica's ear.

"It looks simply horrible on her," Jessica whispered back. "And that shade of white does absolutely nothing for her complexion."

Chuckling, they walked away.

OOOOOOOOOO

Dinner was served indoors instead of the outdoor barbecue we'd had a few weeks back. Afterwards, we had cake, and everyone sang _Happy Birthday_.

Then it was time for my piano performance.

As I sat at the black, baby grand piano, my entire frame shook. I could hear the quiet murmurs all around me, and the thought of letting Mother down and ruining her party made me tremble.

"Isabella!" Someone whispered my name loudly.

I looked up and saw Alice, who waved a hand excitedly. At her side, Rose and Masen smiled, and Doctor and Mrs. Cullen nodded encouragingly. See, Mrs. Cullen and I had spent a few hours at her own smaller and older piano, and she'd told me to look for them if I got nervous today.

There was one more face I was looking for though, and as everyone whispered and waited, I scanned the room, and there he was.

The copper-haired boy was leaning against a wall, hands deep in the pockets of his grey trousers. He didn't smile or wave, but his eyes…I remember they held mine with an intensity, an assurance that no matter what, he'd still be standing there.

So I played, and oh did I mess up - in more than one place.

But I didn't care.

And when I was done, while everyone cheered, it was only Edward and his family that I saw.

OOOOOOOOOO

The rest of that night was very similar to Independence Day: we played, and we ran, except Mother told us to behave and warned everyone that she wasn't going to put up with any fights this time – looking directly at an unblinking Edward as she said this.

So we took ourselves outside. See, the summer was coming to an end, and in those days, we knew to make the most of good weather days.

As usual, Sandy ran after us, barking and jumping, nipping at our feet, and refusing to be left out of the fun.

"Goodness, that dog!" Mother grumbled when she and Papa Phil and a few of the guests stepped outside to enjoy the cool evening, and Sandy almost knocked them all over. She'd grown over the summer months.

"She's a sweet thing, though," Esme smiled.

"Yes, well," Mother scowled, "I'm just grateful that she'll be gone in a couple of days. Phil, Darling, you've made the arrangements, haven't you?"

"Yes, Renee. The arrangements have been made."

I stopped running around.

"Mother?"

Mother raised one of her perfect brows. "Isabella, Darling, you did know that Sandy wasn't permanent, didn't you?"

I stared at her.

"Now you didn't honestly think Sandy would be going back to Miss Tudor's with you…or home with us?" She chuckled, laying a diamond-studded hand against her chest. "Sweetheart, she was only here for the summer. I thought you understood that."

The evening that Mother and Dad sat me down to tell me they'd be getting divorced, I went to bed wondering what exactly they were going on about. In those days, divorce wasn't common, therefore I failed to understand the concept. For the few weeks leading up to our departure, I honestly forgot all about the discussion! I suppose you can say that boarding that train in Chicago for the trip to New York peeled away the first layer of naiveté, of that innocence I possessed as a child.

Realizing that Sandy was never meant to be permanent peeled away the second layer.

An agonizing pain welled up inside my chest, so bad that I struggled to draw in breaths.

"Isabella, we'll get you another dog next summer," Papa Phil said. "Any breed you'd like."

"I want Sandy."

Mother and Papa Phil looked at one another. Doctor and Mrs. Cullen looked at one another.

Tearing angrily at the stupid, sparkling headpiece over my head, I flung it to the ground and ran, leaving behind satin shoes stuck in muddy earth, tearing through wooded landscape while branches tore at my dress, and voices called from behind. My tears fell freely: tears for my dad, tears for the friends I'd left behind in Chicago, tears for Mrs. Cope, who had to clean up after a silly girl and her dog, tears for Doctor and Mrs. Cullen, who did everything they could to put a decent dinner on the table every evening, and tears for Sandy, who unaware of her fate, still chased after me.

And I cried for me because despite everything, I'd _still_ trade it all if I could go back to Chicago and the way things used to be.

Exhausted and heartsick, I dropped in front of a tree and sobbed until a pair of arms encircled me…and then another…and then another.

Alice cried along with me. "I hate your mama. I'm sorry, but I do."

"Don't cry, Isabella," Rose said. "It'll be okay."

"Relax, Little Sister," Masen whispered shakily. "You'll make yourself sick. Relax."

It was a while before I got myself together. All the while, Sandy jumped on me, licking my face and trying to make me feel better. I picked her up and cradled her close to me, and for a few minutes, I imagined a world where I could run away with her, and no one would ever find us.

Together, we all walked back the way we'd come because we were children, and there was nothing else we could do.

"Where's Edward?" Alice suddenly asked.

"I don't know," Masen answered. "We'd better look for him and make sure he's not gettin' himself into any trouble because Pop warned him."

Splitting up to look for Edward, I set down Sandy, and she ran off – right to the boy we were searching for.

He had his back to me, and he was speaking with Papa Phil, neither who seemed to notice my approach.

"Now Son, it's a mighty fine offer, but it would be an extra responsibility for your parents. An extra mouth to feed and care for, and times are hard all around."

"I have some savings, Sir. I'll help pay for Sandy's expenses."

"Well…and what about next summer when Isabella returns?"

"She can have her back then. She can have her back every summer."

Papa Phil bounced on his feet, taking a long drag from his cigar as he pondered Edward's words.

"It's a mighty fine offer, yes it is, but I'll have to speak to your parents."

"Yes, Sir."

Papa Phil looked up and spotted me. "And maybe you should ask Isabella what she thinks of your plan, just to make sure she's agreeable."

"Yes, Sir."

Papa Phil walked off then, and I walked up to Edward while Sandy circled us, jumping and nipping at our legs.

"Sit," Edward ordered Sandy, and she sat.

I drew in a few, uneven sighs, overwhelmed by what I'd heard. "Thank you."

Edward shrugged, hands once again buried deep in his pockets. "Yeah, well, it's only while you're at school. When you come back next summer, you gotta take her back."

"She's still mine?"

He smirked. "'Course she's still yours."

"Mother says I'll get some of Papa Phil's money when I turn twenty-one. Then I'll take Sandy and move away – just her and me. You won't have to watch her anymore after that."

He snorted. "Bella, when you're twenty-one, I'll be twenty-three and long gone from here."

I frowned. "Gone to where?"

"To the air corps, of course, to fly a bomber – soon as I turn eighteen. Pop says he won't sign for me before then, so I've got six more years to wait. I'll watch Sandy for you 'til then, but after that, you and your mutt are on your own."

Busy wondering what I'd do with Sandy once Edward left to fly his bombers, it took me a few seconds to ask,

"Why did you call me 'Bella'?"

He gave another shrug, but I thought I saw his cheeks redden just a tiny bit. "You're too small for such a big name like Isabella. 'Sides, when I look at you, I just think…Bella."

"Thank you," I repeated as the realization of how he'd saved me and my Sandy – yet again – sunk in.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You said that already. Come on, let's go find the others."

We walked away together, Sandy at our heels. I felt so much…lighter than I'd felt just a few, short moments ago, as if floating in a magical land where nothing could ever go wrong.

I did wonder fleetingly at the choice Edward had just made, even after he'd said he'd never have another dog. But I was barely ten that summer and self-involved - the way barely ten-year-olds tend to be. My thoughts jumped from that short-lived question to ruminations regarding the choices we'd both make when we were older: Edward off to fly military planes, and me…living alone and happy with my Sandy.

Little did we know on that cool, end-of-summer evening in 1934 that magical lands did not exist, and that by the time 1941 rolled around, Edward would be nineteen, I'd be barely seventeen, and the world would make our choices for us.

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 5: **

_**You're Getting to be a Habit With Me**_** (1933) by Bing Crosby:**

_**Every kiss, every hug seems to act just like a drug.  
**__**You're getting to be a habit with me.**__**  
**_

*****Today, A Different Forest will be posting a fun little interview we did together. Go check it out if you're interested in random facts about my life and story-writing habits. :)**

*****For fans of Spin &amp; Sway: I'll be posting a five-part outtake to that story very, very soon, that was originally written as a donation for the Fandom for Lymphoma and Leukemia Research. I'll let you all know when it's up.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you Thursday. :)**


	7. Chapter 6 - True Hearts Never Forget

**A/N: Thank you for your continued beautiful thoughts and words. **

**The next few years will be one chapter each until we get to the critical year of 1941. Of course, Ed &amp; Bella become teenagers before then (they'll already be 16 and 14 respectively in just three chapters). I know many of you are anxious to get Ed and Bella to their older teenage years and beyond. We will be there soon, I promise you.**

**Anyway, by the time we get to an older Bella and Edward, you might find yourselves missing their easier and more innocent times as younger children. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: True Hearts Never Forget**

Just as the previous year, the first week of my 1935 summer vacation was spent in Chicago with my dad. And just as the previous year, Dad did his best to keep me busy. Jake came over almost every day. We had fun, but I longed for the fresh air and open space I'd known last summer.

"Let's go exploring!" I said to Jake one afternoon. "Let's run and run 'til there's no more houses or stores! Only trees and grass and…and maybe even a river!"

Jake looked at me as if I'd grown two heads.

Instead, we listened _to The Lone Ranger's_ adventures or to a new show called _Hit Parade_ that had just premiered, where Al Goodman and his orchestra led a countdown of the top fifteen songs of the week, and at the end of the hour, they revealed the very top one!

Well, back then, it was a novel idea.

After supper, we'd sit out on the small porch listening to Uncle Billy and Dad discuss the Babe's retirement from baseball and moan about how the sport would never be the same. Or they'd shake their heads over the Black Blizzards across the Midwest and how the latest dust storm had blackened the sky right over our house here. One night, they celebrated FDR's newest deal, The Works Progress Administration, which had finally landed Uncle Billy a job after nearly two years of unemployment.

One day, Dad took Jake and me to a movie house and paid seventy-two cents for the three of us to see _The Bride of Frankenstein_ with Boris Karlof. Afterwards, Jake kept teasing me because I'd covered my eyes in terror when lightning struck Henry Frankenstein's latest monstrous creation, making him triumphantly - and quite horrifyingly - exclaim, "She's Alive! _Alive!"_

For the next few days, Jake found it humorous to catch me unaware and suddenly scream, "She's Alive! Alive!" while waving fists high in the air.

A couple of days before I was to board the _Union Builder_ for my long train ride into Washington, Dad asked me if I wanted to go to the movies again the next day.

"Or we can go into Chicago and do something else - maybe catch a Cubs game?"

I was standing on a wooden stool, drying the dishes he handed me.

"Dad…can we just stay home tomorrow, just you and me?"

Dad stopped scrubbing the dish in his hand and looked at me. We had the same golden eyes, he and I, the same color hair, and I'd been told there was something similar in our smiles, but other than that, I was a miniature version of Mother. At times when he couldn't quite hold my gaze or when he tried to fill up all our time with activities, I wondered who he saw when he looked at me.

"Isabella, it wouldn't…upset you…staying home…just you and your old man?"

I tilted my head sideways, furrowing my brows.

"What I mean is…" – he swallowed – "well, your mother…she would get bored..."

I knew then who he saw when he looked at me.

"Can we go sit on the porch and play cards, just us?"

"Just us?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay," he said, and I could hear the thickness in his voice. "Okay."

OOOOOOOOOO

The _Union Builder_ rumbled quietly north through mountains and prairies, and as days blurred into nights, I spent the hours thinking of Dad and his loneliness, of Jake and his playful teasing, of Uncle Billy and his new job, and of Sandy and the friends I'd soon see.

I thought of Edward…the copper-haired boy, who'd been taking care of my dog for the past nine months, and I remembered how he'd saved me from the river last summer. I recalled the furious look in his eyes when for some unknown reason, he'd punched Peter Vanderneck. I thought of how he'd lent me his courage while I'd played the piano in front of so many strangers. And of course, I remembered how he'd saved my dog from an unknown fate.

I was barely eleven years old that summer, and I knew nothing of romantic love – but I did know that Edward was already my hero.

OOOOOOOOOO

"How has your year been, Ms. Dwyer?" Felix asked after picking up Mrs. Cope and me from the train station in Seattle.

"It's been well, thank you."

I'd spent a week over Christmas with Mother and Papa Phil in New York City, and then a full month with them again in the spring at which time we boarded the Queen Mary to cross the Atlantic into England. Mother kept us busy with shopping excursions through Harrod's and Selfridges, and sightseeing tours through Westminster Abbey and Parliament. Then I'd returned to Miss Tudor's and hadn't seen Mother again until today.

"How have you been, Felix?"

"Well, Ms. Dwyer, guess I can't complain too much. I know lots of folks got it worse than I do, but I'm glad your family is back for the summer; yes, I am. Good, honest, dependable work – 'least for the summer months. Can't complain there."

"Felix, hush!" Mrs. Cope hissed. "The child doesn't need to hear 'bout your hardships."

"Sorry, Little Ma'am," Felix said, tipping his hat to me while he navigated us through the rainy streets of Seattle. "Guess I forgot myself."

OOOOOOOOOO

Mother looked beautifully elegant in a pair of white, navy-style loose trousers and a matching white, navy-style top with a blue ribbon along the neckline. She made a few, quick inquiries into my comfort and contentment at Miss Tudor's before regaling me with stories from her year.

"Isabella, I wish you would've seen how perfect that party was! Gloria will have all the boys falling on their knees at her debutante ball this fall; mark my words. I can't wait until your own coming-out!"

"Renee, the child is barely eleven, and don't forget young ladies must be invited by committee to attend the balls."

"The committee headed by Mrs. Vanderneck, yes, and after last year's fiasco…" she scowled. "Why, Lauren informed me last summer that her mother has _already_ procured an invitation for her from the head of the California committee."

"As Lauren is spending this summer with her mother, I'll have to take your word for it, Darling," he grinned.

Mother was ruminating. "There's still time. After all, the Vandernecks are coming up this summer, aren't they? Perhaps we should invite them to Europe this fall; what do you think, Philip?"

"I don't know that we'll be able to keep those plans to travel to Europe. With the new, German leader ignoring previous treaties and re-arming his nation, I'm hearing rumors of rising tensions all over the continent."

Mother chuckled. "I wouldn't concern myself with that. After all, what can one lone man do against an entire continent?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Once our talk was done, I quickly cleared the first row of trees that divided the back yard from the wilderness that encroached on it. Running through thick trees and wilderness, I removed my shoes so that I could feel the moist grass tickle my feet while the warm breeze blew against my face. I smiled as I inhaled the scent of pine and evergreen. Taking the small footbridge, I crossed into Cullen property, and the door to the house opened just as I ran past the huge evergreen.

Somehow I ended up wrapped in Esme's arms first and then in Alice's and Rose's while Masen ruffled my hair and rumbled a "Hey, Little Sister!"

Esme beamed at me. "Goodness, look how beautifully you've grown!"

"Isabella, I've got so much to tell you since we last wrote!" Alice exclaimed.

"Why don't we all go to the…"

I only vaguely heard the rest of Rose's sentence because behind them all, I caught a glimpse of a boy emerging from the back of the house – and a sandy-toned dog with big, floppy ears nipping playfully at his legs. The boy wore light, corduroy trousers held up by suspenders, a white shirt underneath and a dark cap over his head that hid all but a few wisps of copper, which stuck out over his ears and caught the sun, glittering like gold.

When the boy pointed in my direction, the dog looked up and took off running, jumping me and almost knocking me to the ground. She'd grown, but so had I.

And so had the copper-haired boy.

I picked her up and held her close to me, closing my eyes to the soft warmth of her fur. She licked my face, whimpering happily and wagging her tail so furiously it smacked my stomach hard. She smelled like woods and dog and just…

"She still remembers me!"

"'Course she does," the boy said.

I looked at him.

He'd changed; there was something more…angular in the shape of his jaw. He was taller; standing close, he had about four inches on me now. His eyes were still the most vibrant shade of green I'd ever seen; they looked as if they absorbed the evergreens that surrounded him every day of his life.

"Hello, Edward," I grinned.

"Hey, Bella."

"She's still my dog!" I exclaimed.

"Told you she would be," he smirked. "Dogs are devoted creatures; they have true and loyal hearts that never forget the ones they love, no matter what."

##########

"True and loyal hearts never forget…no matter what," I repeat, staring off into the vast, green landscape.

"What does that mean, Nana?" Isabella asks, and the way she whispers…I get the feeling she's been waiting for me for a while.

So I draw in a deep breath and fill my tired lungs. "It's a phrase, Sweetheart, a simple phrase that later became my mantra and remained so for…well, for a very long time."

##########

As we made our way to the river, it was as if time had stood still, waiting for my return.

We splashed around for a while, and then we lay on the grass.

"What was school like this year?" Alice asked. "What did you learn?"

"Let's see," I said, creasing my forehead as I thought. "We did spelling and arithmetic, and I had Latin added to my languages. We learned about botany and reviewed our colonial history, and of course, we have etiquette class. And oh yes, I began my horseback riding lessons and continued piano and tennis lessons."

They were silent.

When I turned to look at them, they laughed, and it was such a sweet sound that I laughed too. Then Alice filled me in on her year and on the local gossip.

"You should see Jessica," she chuckled. "She doesn't have Lauren here this year, so she's lonely and keeps trying to be part of our gang."

"That's not why she's trying to be part of our gang," Rose laughed.

"Shut up, Rosalie," Edward growled.

"Don't tell her to shut up," Masen ordered.

"Jessica's sweet on Edward," Alice giggled.

"Alice, shut up!" Edward yelled, glaring up at the sky.

Alice continued as if he hadn't said a word. "She told my friend Sally Rogers that she doesn't mind that Edward's still a bit shorter than her. She thinks he's got dreamy eyes."

An uncomfortable flutter rolled around in my stomach; though at the time, I had no idea why. Meanwhile, Edward turned his head Alice's way, narrowing his "dreamy" eyes into slits.

"Jessica's just a dumb girl," he hissed, "like you and your friend, Sally."

Alice shrugged off his insult. "Edward likes the older girls like Miss Connor."

I sat up. "Who's Miss Connor?"

Alice grinned and sat up with me. "Edward's teacher."

"I don't like Miss Connor."

"You told Masen you liked her hair. I heard you."

"What does her hair look like?" I asked. Meanwhile, Edward had stood up and now stalked closer to Alice, who sensing danger, began crawling away backwards like a small crab.

"It's long, dark and wavy." She tilted her head sideways. "Kinda like yours, actually."

By this time, Edward was holding out his hands in front of him, curled into claws.

"Edward, stop," Masen ordered. I was amazed by the fact that he wasn't even looking this way yet he knew what was going on.

Edward froze for a few seconds, as if debating his options. Then he just let his hands drop.

Once more, Alice giggled. "How 'bout you, Bella?" They'd all taken to calling me Bella now. "Is there anyone you're sweet on?"

"I go to school with all girls," I smiled, picking at the blades of wet grass next to me.

"Well, how 'bout in Chicago? Do you like any of your friends in Chicago?"

"Not that way. I mean, there's Jake, but he's more like a brother."

"How old is Jake?" Masen asked.

"Thirteen."

"Like Edward," Rose said.

"Well, Jake's been thirteen since Christmas."

"Big deal!" Edward scoffed, leaning up against a tree a few feet from us. "I've been thirteen for over a week now!"

"How tall is Jake?" Alice asked, ignoring her brother's outburst.

At this, Edward stiffened.

Yes, he'd grown, but at thirteen, Edward still couldn't be considered tall, and apparently height was still a sore point.

"He's a bit taller than Masen, I think," I admitted warily.

Masen whistled through his teeth. "Wow, that's one tall kid."

I could see Edward's dissatisfaction with this revelation in the way his nostrils flared.

"I bet I could beat him up," he muttered, punching the tree and doing away with any pity I may have begun to feel for his plight.

"Well, that wouldn't be very nice at all," I said. "Jake is one of my best friends."

"Settle down, Barney Ross," Masen said. "Remember what Mama and Pop said: "You get into one more fight, they're gonna send you off to one of those boys' schools - and not one of those fancy ones like Bella goes to."

"If they're gonna send me away, then I want them to send me to military school; then I could join the corps sooner."

"They're not going to send you to military school," Masen laughed. "Edward wants to go shoot down some Germans and teach 'em a lesson."

"Would serve them right for re-arming after they were told not to," Edward scowled.

"Do they teach you about the Great War in school?" I wondered aloud.

"Yeah, sometimes," Alice said. "How 'bout in your school?"

I shook my head. "My teachers say war isn't an appropriate topic of discussion for young ladies."

They all stared at me again.

"But my dad talks about the Great War all the time – he and my Uncle Billy."

"Enough talk about the Great War," Masen interrupted. "It's over, and Pop says that this rearmament in Germany ain't none of our country's business."

"Speaking of wars," Alice said, "Is Peter coming this summer?"

"Papa Phil says he and his parents will be spending a week with us for my eleventh birthday party."

"In that case, we'd better keep Edward away from him," Masen snickered.

Edward rolled his eyes and stretched his lean limbs as he walked towards the river once more.

"Little Brother, you never did say what he said to rile you up last summer," Masen commented.

"Doesn't matter," Edward said, standing at the edge of the foot-bridge. "He won't be saying it again."

And without hesitation, he jumped back into the river.

OOOOOOOOOO

We spent every spare moment together. But that's how it is with kids that age. Still innocent and trusting, you form bonds that can never quite be formed in later years because you never do quite trust that way again.

On the days when I had French and Piano lessons, I'd get through those as valiantly as possible.

_j'ai mang__é__  
tu as mang__é__  
il a mange__…__  
_

And so on and so forth. In piano, I'd been moved on to the Masters: the first movement of Bach's _Well Tempered Cavalier_ as well as the first movement of Mozart's _Piano Sonata Number 10_. Once again informed I'd be performing at my end-of-summer birthday gala, I'd been generously allowed to pick between the two, depending on which one I'd feel more comfortable with by the end of summer.

On more than one occasion, my over-eagerness to be done with lessons was rewarded with Madame Beauchamp assuring me that my embarrassing excuse for French made her want to sob or with Mr. Jones delivering a sharp slap to my non-cooperative fingers with the wooden ruler.

Then there was Jessica.

At first, having Jessica around wasn't so bad without Lauren around to encourage her nasty side. She mostly ignored Alice and me, focusing half of her efforts in trying to impress Masen and Rose because they were older and the other half in catching Edward's attention.

Oh, she was quite obvious about her intentions towards Edward: batting her lashes something awful, shaking her hips, trying to push his hair out of his eyes. At thirteen, Jessica had been endowed with a few generous assets both in front and behind her that stood out quite obviously in the swimsuit she usually wore.

One cool afternoon, we were all by the river. It was one of those days when the water was rough because of the weather. On those days, I didn't dare go in. Despite my dad's continued attempts to the contrary, I was not a strong swimmer.

So while most of them were now in the water, I sat on the footbridge, watching them and laughing contentedly as I translated words into French for them. It was a silly game, and little by little, the translations had somehow grown bawdier. Jessica was the only one not playing along.

"How do you say 'behind' in French?" Alice asked.

I giggled. "_Derrière__**."**_

And legs?" Masen inquired.

"_Les jambes."_

"And what's the French word for a woman's chest?" Edward asked.

"_Décolletage_," I chuckled.

"Bella, why don't you come in?" Jessica asked.

I shrugged. "I don't feel like it."

"What's the matter, can't you swim?" She smirked.

"I just don't feel like it."

"Don't tell me that that fancy school of yours teaches you French but doesn't teach you something as basic as swimming? Even your dog can swim!" She looked over at Sandy, who was indeed paddling away. "Maybe you should learn to say, 'I'm dumber than a dog' in French." She laughed.

Startled by the attack I hadn't been expecting, I looked at Alice. When I saw the fury on her face, my own anger quickly turned into fear for Jessica.

"Why don't you just shut your dumb mouth and leave her alone?"

Again, I was startled. My eyes quickly shifted to Edward.

"I was just teasing her," Jessica told Edward.

"Well don't," he snapped.

"You guys tease her all the time," she whined defensively.

"We're allowed to tease her; you're not," Masen said.

Jessica opened her mouth again but then wisely closed it.

And I only partly hid my smile. _"Je suis plus __bête__ qu'un chien."_

Jessica looked up at me, scowling. "What?"

"That's how _you'd_ say, "I'm dumber than a dog."

Everyone – except for Jessica – fell into fits of laughter.

It would be a few years before she got me back for that one, but when she did, oh boy, was it a doozy.

OOOOOOOOOO

The summer days passed, and then it was once more time for my birthday gala. Having had more time to plan this year, Mother had my dress shipped all the way from Asia. It was made of the softest silk that wrapped around the front in a magnificent shade of pale pink.

Peter Vanderneck returned, and he and Edward put the previous year's fight behind them…

or so I thought until a few years later.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Mother planned a proper, sit-down dinner for this year's event. She separated dining tables based on those who knew one another: Papa Phil's friends and business associates from Seattle and the west coast from the neighbors from Forks – which naturally led to a separation by class.

Children were also seated separately from the adults, yet our table was also set with fine linens and silverware. Unfortunately, except for Jessica, Peter and me, most of the other children had a difficult time understanding what all the silverware was for. There was lots of nervous whispering and chuckling.

Afterwards, when we'd finished, Papa Phil made his way to our table and engaged us all in conversation. He spent quite a while talking to Masen, asking him about school and talking sports, and he even spoke to Edward for a while. I was quietly grateful for Papa Phil's interest in the Cullens when I suspected Mother's intentions towards them may have been quite different.

Then Mother approached our table. "Isabella, why don't you escort Peter and Jessica and…the rest to the parlor and play them some music while the adults finish their drinks. We'll join you for your concerto in a short while."

"Yes, Mother."

Face flaming, I led the way to the large parlor with Alice at my side.

"This is all so fancy, Bella," she smiled encouragingly. "I feel like I'm in a fairy tale."

Behind me, Edward snorted. "Pfft, some fairy tale - rich people and their snooty selves."

My face burned hotter, and I felt tears of embarrassment sting my eyes -

until Edward appeared at my other side. He smiled crookedly, his green eyes contrite. Bowing exaggeratedly, he stood and crooked his arm my way.

"M'Lady, if I may escort you?" he said in a very bad British accent.

For a couple of beats, I stared at him warily. Then Masen and Rose chuckled quietly behind us, and Alice giggled at my side. Even Peter snorted in front of us because this whole party was just so ridiculous, and despite our ages, we _all_ knew it.

I put my arm through his and responded in my most posh voice. "Why thank you, M'Lord."

And then we all burst out laughing.

OOOOOOOOOO

I awoke with a start.

Sitting up in bed, I looked down at the rug on the floor where Sandy was in dreamland. I'd forgotten to feed her tonight, and though knowing her she'd probably picked up scraps here and there, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

Wrapping myself in a robe, I made my way out of the room, Sandy quietly at my heels.

"I'm sorry, Girl," I whispered as we made our way through the hallway. "I suppose with the excitement of the day and such…but that's no excuse, I know."

We were about to take the stairs down, but voices coming from Mother and Papa Phil's bedroom suddenly caught my attention.

"…no class, and she'll end up just as wild if you don't step in!" Mother said.

Papa Phil chuckled. "Renee, you're over-reacting."

"I'd hoped young Peter Vanderneck would open her eyes as to what's acceptable! I'd hoped seeing the contrast between those children and Peter would make her see the difference-"

"You ask too much from that child," Papa Phil said. "This isn't the time to plan debutante balls or to find her a proper match. This is time to let her grow and get dirty if she must. Now when the time comes, I assure you I will make sure that Isabella has _all_ she deserves, but for now, let her be, Renee. We are _not_ old money."

"We may not be old money," Mother said in a scathing tone, "but neither are we like the classless nobodies you insist on forcing us to associate with! Why that _Doctor_ Cullen is nothing more than a pig farmer, and his wife, Esme, is a backwoods strumpet, who gives herself undeserved airs of superiority!"

There was a long stretch of silence, and I wondered if it was because they'd heart Sandy's panting.

"Renee, you're my wife, and I realize that you've had difficult times, but I warn you, that will be the last time you speak that way of that family in front of me. I've known them for a very long time, and Esme…Esme I've known my _entire_ life," he hissed, his voice shaking in a frightening way. "She's a good woman, and she deserves nothing but respect, and I hope you're intelligent enough to realize that when you insult our neighbors, you insult _me_, for this is what I come from!"

I couldn't see them, but I could hear the fury in Papa Phil's voice, and I could imagine how he must've looked. Mother must've seen it because her voice suddenly changed from angry and shrill to soft and apologetic.

"Philip, Darling, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend you; I swear it! I'm just concerned for my daughter, for _our_ daughter."

"You have nothing to worry about," he said coldly. "I told you when we married that Isabella will never want for anything. She's an innocent child, and I will never allow her to pay for _anyone's_ mistakes."

"I know you won't," Mother said breathlessly. "You saved Isabella and me from living our lives in squalor! I love you, Philip! I love you!"

Then I heard what sounded like objects being pushed and shoved around, and strange…moans and groans that sounded as if Mother and Papa Phil were in pain – or some sort of physical altercation.

"Oh Philip!" Mother screamed, and I frowned. "God, Philip!"

"That's right. Just like that, Renee. Make it up to me just…like…that. _Ahhh_."

Curious - and a bit frightened for Mother - I inched closer and placed my hand on the doorknob because if Mother cried out once more, I'd have to go in and-

"Isabella!" Mrs. Cope hissed.

She pulled me away from the door and led me back to my room.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Are you sure Sandy won't starve if she waits until morning to eat?" I asked Mrs. Cope as she settled me back into my bed.

"Does that dog look like she's starving to you?" Mrs. Cope asked.

I looked at Sandy, once again nestled onto the rug beside my bed, her strong, muscular frame relaxed and healthy.

Mrs. Cope placed a quick kiss on my forehead and turned to leave.

"Mrs. Cope, what's a backwoods strumpet?"

She froze and then turned around.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Mother called Miss Esme a backwoods strumpet."

Mrs. Cope's approached my bed once more, slowly reaching out to stroke my long hair.

"It's nothing you should be repeating, and it sure isn't anything that describes Miss Esme. Miss Esme is one of the most upstanding, kindest women I've ever met."

"That's what Papa Phil said."

She smiled – one of those sad smiles. "I'm sure he did defend her. Go to sleep, Isabella, and dream beautiful, childlike dreams because…well, just go to sleep, Child."

And then she turned around and left.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 6:**

_**Gold Digger's Song (We're in the Money) – **_**Recorded in 1933 by Dick Powell (but covered by oh so many people over the years):**

_**We're in the money.  
**__**We're in the money.  
**__**We've got a lot of what it takes to get along.**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	8. Chapter 7 - Growing

**A/N: Once again, thanks so much for your beautiful and sweet thoughts. :)**

**I've got some news to share. Check out the A/N at the end.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Growing**

In the summer of 1936, my return to Forks was met with a…tall surprise.

Having made my way to the river, the first thing I saw was Masen and another boy bare-chested and in folded-up pants standing on the footbridge, hollering and yelling into the river. The boy next to Masen looked familiar – copper hair and impish chuckle – but he was tall…almost as tall as Masen…

"And the 1936 Olympic Gold Medal for High Dive is gonna go to the U.S. and to-"

"Edward!"

When the boy turned around and saw me, a beautiful grin lit up his face.

"Bella!"

We were old friends now, so we ran to each other as such, and Edward swooped me up in his long, lean arms, swinging me around and around.

"Put me down! Put me down!" I laughed. "You're making me dizzy!"

Edward chuckled and set me down while Sandy barked and nipped at my bare toes. I picked her up and squeezed her wet body tightly to me, having missed her so much over the long months.

"Edward, you're almost as tall as Masen now!"

He grinned, smugly rolling a blade of grass around in his mouth like a popsicle. "And you're still tiny," he teased.

"I've grown as well!" I said indignantly.

I had – but nowhere near as much as Edward. At fourteen, he could no longer be considered short, while I at almost twelve…well, I was still one of the petite girls in my class.

His features had changed as well. The square shape of his jaw was more defined, more angular, skin stretched tighter along his cheekbones, possessing even less of the childish roundness that had still marked it last year. There was also something different in the way he smiled, the way he grinned, something more confident and mature. His voice was stronger, less boyish.

Either way, we were all the best of friends again, and we caught up, just like the previous summers.

Though if Jessica had the sweets for Edward before, she was positively moony-eyed over him now. With Lauren back in town this summer, Jessica somehow convinced my stepsister to venture out of the house, so Alice and I had to deal with both of them instead of just one.

What's more, this year, fifteen-year old Peter Vanderneck and his family joined us early, around the Independence Day holiday. Lauren begged him to come to the river, and Peter, realizing it was either that or spend his days alone with the grown-ups, relented.

So for the first couple of weeks that summer, we were a larger group, and as much antagonism and/or crushes, both known and unknown as there may have been between certain parties of our gang, we all managed to get along - for the most part. We were still children, and we had a way to go yet before school-aged crushes turned into teenaged exploration or before childhood teasing turned into grown-up rivalries and betrayals.

OOOOOOOOOO

Now in the summer of 1936, there was one of the worst heat waves in U.S. history. In the Midwest, where things were already bad enough because of the dry, arid earth, it was an absolute nightmare. That summer, thousands of people died all over the country.

As for us, we barely left the river that summer.

We spent one particular day, a couple of days after the Independence Day barbecue, cooling off in the large swimming pool at our house. I can't recall why we were there; although I do recall it wasn't very often we chose it over the river. Perhaps we were there because it was easier to play a game that Masen had taught us called "Marco Polo."

"Little Sister," Masen said after a while, "You've sure got the life here. This here's what I'd like someday, 'cept I don't want to have to leave Forks to get it. Maybe I'll get lucky somehow and riches will fall right into my lap."

I chuckled. "I wish I never had to leave Forks either."

"Ugh, I hate Forks!" Lauren moaned.

"Father says it takes more than luck to build a name for yourself. It takes brains and an education," said Peter.

Edward swam around us casually. "How would your pop know anything about building a name for himself being he was born into his name and riches?"

Peter glared at him, yet Edward kept right on swimming.

"All of this'll be mine when I grow up anyways," Lauren said. "I don't need work, luck or an education."

"This'll be Bella's as much as it'll be yours," Alice piped in.

Lauren scowled. "We'll see about that."

Before Alice could swim over and shove Lauren's head underwater, I assured her,

"When I grow up, I'm going to go to college, and then I'll buy my own things."

Lauren snickered. "Mother says college is only for unfortunate girls who can't find a husband."

"That's stupid," Rose said. "I'd like to go to college too."

"And girls with no other prospects," Jessica whispered loudly to Lauren, making them both giggle.

"Bella, you're not going to college anyway," Lauren laughed. "You're going to marry whomever your mama picks for you and have his babies!"

"I am not!" I snapped.

Spurred on by Lauren's presence, Jessica decided to put her two cents in.

"Yes, you are! You're going to marry someone like Peter!"

"She won't marry Peter!" Lauren scowled. "I'm sure Peter has better taste than that!"

"Well, he sure wouldn't marry you!" Alice retorted.

And just like that, it all dissolved into an argument as to whether Peter would marry Lauren or me when we grew up, and everyone seemed to have an opinion on the subject.

Save for Peter himself and curiously enough, Edward.

Both boys simply stood there: Peter stiff and stoic, Edward leaning against the pool's edge, cool as a cucumber, arms crossed against his bare chest while he just watched Peter.

"Well, I'm not marrying him! So he can marry her if he wants!"

"He wouldn't marry her anyway! She's an Okie from the Dust Bowl!"

"I'm from Chicago!"

"Same thing!"

"Hold on, hold on!" Masen refereed. "Peter, being as you're right here, why don't you tell us which of the Dwyer sisters you'd marry: Bella or Lauren." He grinned impishly, enjoying the silly game.

Wide-eyed, Peter Vanderneck shifted his eyes between Lauren and me over and over. He swallowed, looked back and forth, and repeated the process.

"Well it won't be me!" I declared.

"I don't have any plans to marry anyone just about now anyway," Peter muttered.

Masen howled with laughter. "I'll make a prediction," he said, pointing a finger up to the sky like an old prophet. "In ten years, Rose and I will be married with four babies, Peter will be married to a rich heiress, Lauren will be married to a Duke or some such, Alice will be married to a picture movie actor, Jessica will be married to a traveling circus clown-"

"Hey!" Jessica complained.

Masen ignored her. "Bella will be in college learning how to save the world, and while she does that, Edward will be the one married to-"

"I ain't marrying nobody," Edward said.

We all turned to look at him.

"I'm going to the air corps, soon as I turn eighteen. I ain't getting me no wife that'll need me to stay put and go to college and get me a good job so I can give her a good home. No, siree. Not doing it."

"So you'll only go to college if you're going to marry someone?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Well that doesn't sound very smart at all," I said, and uncomfortable with the silly pool games, I got out of the water.

OOOOOOOOOO

One early morning towards the end of July, before the heat of the day had shifted into the unbearableness of the afternoon, Alice and I were taking turns swinging from the tire under the evergreen. From where we were, I could see Edward sitting under a smaller tree a few yards away, writing. He'd picked up a journal at some point from somewhere, and periodically, he'd be found with his ruddy brows furrowed in deep concentration, sitting somewhere as his pencil slashed over paper.

"What does he write in there?" I wondered while Alice soared high into the sky.

She shrugged. "His dumb thoughts, I suppose."

Esme walked out of the house and sank down to the warm grass, crossing her legs as she took a seat next to me.

"Bella, you know how you and Alice have helped me with cooking for the soup kitchens in Seattle."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to join us next weekend and come into Seattle to help serve."

Once a month, the Cullens went into Seattle to help in a soup kitchen because despite how safe and happy and well-fed I felt here in Forks, times were hard, though it was easy for me to forget. Self-involved as I was, I tended not to notice that the Cullen's clothing was faded and older, that there hadn't been new furniture in a while, nor sugar or butter or so many of the things that I took for granted. Yet the smiles and affection that I always saw and that I always _felt_ around them made it easy for me to forget what they lacked.

"I don't know if Mother would allow me."

"Carlisle and I will speak to your mother and stepfather," Esme assured me.

And so the following weekend, Lauren and I went to Seattle with the Cullens.

It was a lesson in compromise. I was allowed to go, but my stepsister came with me, and we arrived in Papa Phil's car so that when the waiting press snapped our picture, all would know that Philip Dwyer the Second fully supported the soup kitchens and believed in helping those less fortunate.

Once inside, the people I saw in there could've been Uncle Billy or my dad or Mother and I, but at some point, life had dealt them a different set of cards; not a trip to New York and a chance meeting with a rich tycoon. I didn't understand it all yet, but I wanted - even if just for a few hours - to give them at least a sense of the hope I _still_ possessed.

When it was time to go, Lauren was relieved, and afterwards, back at home sitting in the richly-appointed parlor, I tried to understand what I'd seen that day by opening up to Mother.

"They looked so sad," I told her. "They didn't smile, and their hands shook, and their eyes…they had no light left in their eyes."

I think…I think what I wanted more than anything was for her to ask me about Dad and about Uncle Billy. I needed her to help me understand what could possibly happen to a person that would leach all of the light from his or her eyes; how people could stop hoping…could stop loving.

"Isabella, please," she said. "You don't hear Lauren going on and on about all that ridiculousness! I don't understand why Philip allowed you both to attend such a horrid place. He accomplishes the same thing every month by simply signing a check."

And as she continued flipping through swatches for new curtains, I walked out of the parlor.

It was late evening, and I knew I had to get upstairs and prepare for supper; change into one of my beautiful dresses so that I could come down and eat my wonderful meal.

Instead, I walked past the line of trees that divided the property from the wilderness. Unaware of direction or distance, I sat down at a gathering of bushes and allowed tears I didn't even understand to fall while Sandy licked my face, and I stroked her soft fur. A sliver of reddish light streamed through the thick trees as the sun made it's descent from the sky, yet I couldn't get up.

"What's wrong?"

I gasped and turned around.

Edward was kneeling behind me. There was a bucket of fish before him, a rod in his hand, and his trusty journal under his arm.

Holding his evergreen gaze, the tears fell silently.

"What is it, Little Girl?" he said, using the pad of his thumb to wipe under my eyes.

I shut my eyes tight yet the tears wouldn't relent. "I don't really know. She doesn't understand me, and I don't understand her, and I wish…"

I cried harder, unwilling and unable to utter my biggest twelve-year-old fear aloud – not even to Edward, not that summer. But I think…somehow he knew.

For a long time, Edward knelt there, watching me, wiping my eyes. Eventually, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You know that big evergreen by my house, Bella? The anomaly?"

I stopped crying. "Yes."

"That's you."

My brows furrowed. "What?"

"People like you…they're not supposed to care so much."

I frowned. "What do you mean people like me?"

"Rich people," he said. "They usually don't care about anything but themselves."

"Well that's not a nice thing to say at all."

"It's true." He shrugged unapologetically. "But you're not like that. You just don't belong there in that big house."

"How about in a house like yours?" I asked curiously. "You think I'd belong somewhere like that?"

"No. You don't belong in a house like that either. Haven't you noticed? You stick out wherever you go."

"But if I don't belong in a house like mine, and I don't belong in a house like yours, where do I belong, Edward?"

He stared at me for a long moment, and the sun hid behind the trees, descended into the ground and left behind nothing more than a hint of twilight to illuminate us in shades of gold and red.

With a sigh, Edward picked up his pail full of fish and stood. He held out his other hand, and when I took it, he helped me up and finally answered me.

"I've got no idea where you belong Bella, but I promise you this: we'll figure it out...just not today cuz it's getting dark. Come on, I'll walk you home."

And hand in hand, we walked back the way I'd come.

OOOOOOOOOO

Mid-August, a few days before my Birthday Gala, Masen came up with what turned out to be…not such a great idea - though at the time, it sounded magnificent.

The heat of the summer had receded, at least up in the Olympic Mountains. Evenings brought with them cool breezes and relief from the long, scorching summer, and Masen got it into his head that it would be fun to have a camp-out over by the big evergreen, under the light of the moon and the twinkling of the night stars.

Now convincing Mother of the magnificence of this idea would've most likely been impossible, except it just so happened that Mother and Papa Phil would be in Seattle for a couple of days and therefore the decision fell to Mrs. Cope, who adored the Cullens. And as Esme assured her that she'd take full responsibility and check on us often, Lauren and I were allowed to go.

Two tents were set up by Doctor Cullen: one for the girls and one for the boys.

Masen and Rose, at fifteen, were the oldest of our group. Therefore, they were put in charge. But while exploring by myself inside the girls' tent, I caught snippets of a conversation.

"…respect that girl. I understand your feelings, but you are both still children."

"Yes, Sir."

"…remain in your tent with Edward, and she remains in her tent with the girls. We'll be checking."

"Yes, Sir."

We lay under the stars that night, five girls and two boys. If you ask me what exactly we talked about, I won't be able to say. I remember lots of laughter…and perhaps a few arguments.

I remember there were ghost stories, but the one I recall clearly is the last one Masen told because he swore it was an entirely true tale told to him by one of his teachers, who'd been told the story by his own father:

_It was forty years ago, late summer of 1896, on a dark, misty night like tonight happened to be. A family was traveling by covered wagon from Oregon to the lush, green mountains of Washington, and the father noticed a young girl, about Rose's age, walking alone along the trail. _

_He stopped the wagon, and saw that the young girl was dirty, her long calico dress torn and her hair wild and messy. He asked her if she needed help, and the girl responded that she lived a few miles north, and could they please give her a ride to her homestead? The mother took the young girl to the back of the wagon and tended to her while her own two daughters, about my and Alice's age, slept soundly. The mother asked the girl what she'd been doing walking all alone, but the girl began to sob. _

_When they arrived at the homestead, both the mother and father walked to the door of the small cabin, ready to announce to the young girl's parents inside that they'd found their daughter hurt and sobbing on the road. Yet when the door was opened and they told their story, the homestead owner's face turned ashen, and he informed the travelers that his daughter had been murdered a few miles from there by a tribe of Indians exactly ten years ago that night._

_Bewildered, the travelers ran to their wagon only to find that the girl was gone – as were their two young daughters._

"Did they ever find them?" I whispered.

"Well…" Masen said lowly, "it depends on what you mean by _find_. The parents never did see any of the three girls again, but…"

"But what?" Alice asked urgently.

"But…they say that sometimes…if you listen really carefully, you hear the young girls sobbing. And it just so happens that every ten years since that first young girl was murdered, another young girl goes missing up here in the Olympic Mountains."

We were all silent, listening to the sounds of the wilderness surrounding us.

"You made that up," Lauren said.

"No, I didn't," Masen assured her solemnly. "One of my teachers told me, and he wouldn't lie. Edward, you've heard the story, haven't you?"

"I sure have," Edward confirmed.

When we all retired to our tents, I stared up at the roof of ours, wide-eyed. The owls' hoots sounded like the cries of young girls, the cicadas' clicking screeches were reminiscent of a young girl's screams, and I was so grateful that Sandy had been assigned as sentry right outside our tent.

"Can't you sleep?" Alice whispered.

"No."

"I can't sleep either," Rose said.

"Nor I," said Lauren and then Jessica.

Then we heard what sounded like a succession of uneven sighs followed by heavy breathing and then…quiet sobs.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Lauren cried. "I want to go home!"

"Shhh!" Alice ordered.

We heard the sobbing again.

"Bella," Rose said, "why isn't Sandy barking?"

Icy blood ran through my veins. "Sandy?"

There was no answer - not even a whimper or a pant.

"Sandy!"

Alice clung tightly to my hand, but I had to find Sandy. Together, we rushed out of the tent…

…and were met by roars and howls.

I don't think I've ever screamed louder. Inside the tent, Jessica, Lauren and Rose shrieked like they were being murdered.

A dark cloud hiding the moon abruptly shifted, allowing its bright light to shine fully over the two brothers thrown over the muddy, moist dirt - roaring with laughter.

"You brutes!" Alice yelled. "You crumbs! You twits!"

She jumped on them, banging her thirteen-year-old fists against their sides and stomachs while they howled and rumbled, rolling on the ground and holding their stomachs from the force of their chortles.

The three girls remaining in the tent made their way out, verbally abusing the Cullen brothers as well, and all the while I stood there still and silent, unable to move, unable to breathe.

##########

"But it was just the guys playing a joke, Nana," Isabella chuckles. "Why were you still scared?"

"Oh I'll get to that."

##########

After the girls had satisfied their fury, they hopped right back into the tent while Edward and Masen returned to theirs.

"Bella?" Alice said, when she saw me still standing there. "Aren't you coming back in?"

"You go ahead, I need to go to the bathroom," I said.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's okay. I've got Sandy with me."

So in the dark and quiet cover of night, I made my way back to the Cullen house with silent tears streaming down my face. The cool breeze blew through my cotton night shift, and I shivered from both cold and shame, especially as I felt the wetness dripping down my legs.

##########

Oh, Nana." Isabella shakes her head slowly. "Nana, no. No."

"Yes," I nod, smiling ruefully. "Yes. I'd peed myself from fright."

##########

All the way back to the house, I cried and thought of how the time I'd almost drowned a few summers ago was nothing compared to the embarrassment I felt now. As I hobbled like a penguin up the dark porch, I was positive that nothing could ever happen that would be more mortifying.

"Bella?"

I drew in a sharp breath and whipped around, only to have a flashlight blind me momentarily. When it moved out of my eyes, Edward was at the foot of the steps, looking up at me. He frowned when he saw the tear tracks on my face, and his eyes traveled anxiously over me. I saw his eyes widen when the flashlight shined over the wet spot just below my stomach. Boy, I really started sobbing then.

"Oh, Bella," he said. "Oh Little Girl, I'm sorry." He tried to approach me, but I took a step back, sobbing and sobbing.

"Bella, don't cry," Edward pleaded. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry. We shouldn't have frightened you that way."

"I've got to change," I said through my tears.

He nodded quickly. "Mama and Pop should be sleeping by now. You go upstairs and get some clean clothes from Alice's room."

Quietly, with silent tears streaming down my face, I made my way to Alice's room and changed my unders and my nightshift, balling my soiled garments together and stuffing them under the bed to retrieve come morning.

When I made it back downstairs, I was both startled and mortified to see that Edward was still there.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked, my voice broken and shaky.

"I was waiting for you," he said.

"For what?" I moaned bitterly. "So you can wake up everyone and tell 'em what a baby I am so that they can all laugh at me?"

"You really think I'd do that?" he asked, a note of hurt in his tone. "What kind of a heel do you take me for?"

I raised a brow.

"All right, all right."

Deliberately walking by him, I took the porch steps down and walked back towards the evergreen and camp, and though I could hear him a few steps behind, I couldn't get myself to face him. I was angry at him for scaring me, but I was angrier at myself for still being such a child.

Yet the night was dark, and Masen's story was still circling around in my head. When an owl hooted and caught me unaware, I jumped, gasping loudly.

"Hey."

Edward was next to me, and when he turned me carefully to face him, I had to strain to look up and meet his gaze, green eyes so bright under the glittering stars that my breath unexpectedly caught in my throat.

"Are you okay?" He frowned when I didn't answer, resting his hand on my shoulder as we stood under the evergreen; under the old and magnificent tree while the stars shone above us.

"I'm scared." I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but suddenly, I felt like I could tell him anything.

He smiled reassuringly. "I know you are. I'm sorry I frightened you earlier, but Bella, when you're with me, you don't ever have to be afraid." His comforting grip tightened around my shoulder. "I'll never let anything hurt you. Got that?"

Again, I didn't answer right away. I couldn't, caught up as I was in an unfamiliar, strange…bewildering sensation; suddenly lost in eyes I'd looked into hundreds of times in the past three summers…physically startled by a tender touch I'd felt almost as many times.

"Got that?" he reiterated.

I blinked once, twice, and managed a smile through my confusion. "Yes, I've got it."

And carefully wrapping his hand around my wrist, Edward escorted me the rest of the way to our tents.

Still being so young, that moment by the light of the moon and the stars is probably the safest I'd ever felt in my life. That summer, something had shifted in Edward's and my friendship. It was something subtle that took us from the realm of friends to the realm of the best of friends. Alice was still my best friend of all, but there were things that Edward knew about me, things I'd never even said aloud, yet he'd been witness to them…to things we were both still too young to understand.

By the time I took the train back East that summer, my mind was full of lush mountains, and of flowing rivers, and of the most beautiful, tender green eyes in existence. And at twelve years old, I asked myself for the first time if it was possible that Edward and I would someday be more than the best of friends…

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I've got two bits of news:**

**Next Monday, 12/15, I'll start posting a five-part outtake to Spin &amp; Sway that was originally prepared as a donation for the Fandom for LLS. It will post Monday through Friday. :)**

**The Age of Innocence will NOT post during that week, or the two weeks following since my kids will be home for Christmas vacation and we'll be extremely busy making merry!**

**AFTER THIS THURSDAY'S UPDATE, AOI POSTINGS WILL RESUME ON MONDAY, JAN. 5, 2015.**

**And now here are three songs to add to our AOI Playlist (I couldn't pick just one):**

**AOI Playlist:**

**Song #7: _The Glory of Love (1936)_ by Benny Goodman and his Orchestra:**

**_You've got to give a little, take a little,__  
__And let your poor heart break a little.__  
__That's the story of, that's the glory of love._**

**Song # 8: _Alone_ (1936) by Tommy Dorsey:**

**_There must be someone waiting__  
__Who feels the way I do__  
__Whoever you are, are you, are you...Alone_**

**Song #9: _Summertime_ (1936) by Billie Holiday**

_**Summertime and livin' is easy  
****Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high  
****Oh, your daddy's rich and your ma is good lookin'  
**__**So hush little baby, don't you cry.**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you on Thursday!**


	9. Chapter 8 - Summer Dreams

**A/N: Thank you for your continued wonderful and sweet thoughts.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Summer Dreams **

**Summer 1937 **

_Edward and I sit side by side while our bare legs dangle off the edge of the footbridge. We talk and laugh as we do every summer, except I'm ever aware of the strange and exciting tingling in my stomach every time one of his limbs happens to brush one of mine. What's more, I'm mesmerized by the way the sun's rays shine off of his eyes, making them stand out like bright emeralds in the center of what's already a chest full of treasures. Rusty hair burns bright like wildfire, the brown strands always overpowered by copper in these mid-summer days. I yearn to reach out and touch the wet strands covering his forehead._

_Locked in those bright green eyes, I fail to notice Edward slowly inching closer until his face is just a couple of short centimeters from mine. With a sharp intake of breath, my gaze instinctively drops to his mouth, where the pink of his lips bleeds slightly past their perfect shape…then there's the small, round birthmark on the left side of his jaw…and finally…his mouth again…gently brushing mine..._

I awakened with a startled gasp. Flushed and bewildered, I jumped out of bed and sprinted to the small washroom in the corner of the cabin, splashing cool water onto my overheated face. Then I made my way to the windows in my well-appointed train car and pressed my feverish forehead against the cool windowpane.

The world whizzed by in blurs of black, brown and moss. Trees, grass and ebony sky fused and merged into one big obscurity only faintly illuminated by stars and moon. When I pressed the tips of my fingers to my lips, I could still feel the dream humming and breathing around me: the warmth of the summer sun, the cool droplets from the river, the musical sound of Edward's laughter…the heat of his mouth.

With another sharp gasp, I quickly slipped back into bed, squeezing my eyes shut as I waited for morning…

…when I'd finally be back in Forks.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was the summer of 1937. The nation was still gripped tightly in the bowels of depression and faced unemployment in the multi-millions. Rain still refused to alleviate the situation in the midwestern states of the country, and the latest gossip from abroad was that of the Duke of Windsor - formerly King Edward VIII until his abdication the previous year – who'd just married his divorced, American girlfriend, _Wallis Simpson._

But none of that affected me as I spent the first week of my summer vacation in Chicago with my dad and my friend, Jacob.

Jacob was fifteen that summer. Tall and dark-skinned due to his dad's mixed heritage, he had the build of a strong man in his twenties due to having to work manual labor to ensure that he and his father would have a roof over their heads and food on the table.

I, on the other hand, was petite and thin-boned despite the healthy diet Papa Phil's money provided me. At just shy of thirteen, I had no chest nor curves to speak of. My long, wavy hair was just about the only physical attribute of which I was proud in those days, which was why I refused to cut it into the stylish bobs that were all the rage at the time. Other than for my hair, I might as well have been a twelve-year old boy.

At least, that was how _I_ saw myself.

One day, Jacob and I sat at the picture house, waiting to watch _A Day at the Races_ with the Marx Brothers, when a newsreel showing scenes of the Hindenburg exploding all over Lakehurst, New Jersey brought tears to my eyes. I remembered that day years ago when I'd seen it at the World's Fair with Dad…and I remembered discussing it with Edward that first summer in Forks. Anyway, while all these thoughts were going through my head, Jacob pulled me into his side to comfort me.

After that, he began acting…strange.

His eyes would follow me everywhere: as we sat and listened to _The Guiding Light _on the radio or as we sat on the porch with Uncle Billy and Dad or as we played Monopoly on the kitchen table.

Then he developed a serious problem with getting a sentence out in one try.

"Isabella, I…I...uhm…I was wondering if you…you know…do you want to go…uhm…sit on the…uh porch?"

One evening, Dad and Billy went inside early, and Jacob and I were left out on the porch playing marbles.

"Your turn," I said.

"Your hair has always been so pretty, Isabella." His fingers carefully trailed down my long strands.

"Thanks. Hey, Jacob, if I hit your shooter on my next turn-"

I fail to recall exactly what rule of play I was going on about because when I looked up, Jacob's face was suddenly just a few short inches from mine.

Gripped in terror, I sat frozen as Jacob's face began to inch closer. It wasn't until he closed his dark eyes that I jumped up.

"I…uhm…I think I hear Dad calling me," I blurted, and ran inside.

Needless to say, the last few days in Chicago were somewhat awkward.

##########

Isabella reaches out to stroke my ivory hair. "Your hair _has_ always been so wavy and beautiful, Nana. I do remember when it was darker, and Grandpa…Grandpa would say my hair was the same shade as yours."

She gives me a melancholic smile, her eyes firmly on my hair. But then she chuckles.

"Oh my goodness, Nana, a fifteen-year-old boy almost kissing you when you were only twelve! How scandalous that must've been in those times!"

"First, I was almost thirteen. Second, I'll have you know that most of my schoolmates had already had their first kiss – or so they claimed." I roll my eyes. "Times haven't changed all that much, Child."

"All right, all right." She grins. "Go on, Nana. Tell me what happened next. Did you end up letting Jacob kiss you before you left Chicago?"

"No, I didn't. And it wasn't because I wasn't curious or because I didn't find Jacob to be quite handsome."

"It was because you'd already decided who was going to get your first kiss, hadn't you?"

I smile softly. "Yes."

"The copper-haired boy?"

I gaze far into the horizon, my eyes taking in the scenery…but almost eighty years in the past.

"Yes. The copper-haired boy…"

##########

Once again, I was met with a couple of surprises when I arrived in Forks that summer.

For one, Edward had grown even more. He was now just about even with Masen, possibly even an inch or so taller.

The other surprise was the boy running around with Masen and Edward. He was thin and lanky, though a few inches shorter than the Cullen brothers, with a messy head of muddy-blond hair that matched his muddy denim overalls.

Alice had written me about Jasper Whitlock, who'd moved down from the territory of Alaska. Descended from Alaskan gold-rush miners turned sled-dog trainers, Jasper Whitlock and his family were now trying their luck at logging in the mountains of Washington. Jasper was fifteen, just like Edward, and from what Alice had written, he and Edward had become good friends.

In all honesty, on first sight, I was wary of this boy and how his introduction into our group would affect dynamics.

At least I didn't have to worry about Sandy. As soon as she saw me, she jumped onto the footbridge and took off running. I knelt on the grass, hugging her tightly to me and laughing as she licked my face. Then Alice was yelling and running towards me, followed by the rest.

"Jasper, this is Bella, my very best friend in the whole wide world!" Alice said by way of introduction.

"How do you do, Little Girl?"

He bowed low, and though he was obviously teasing me, there was this easy manner about him, this laid-back, friendly way he had that instantly made him likeable. Besides, I was sure I knew who'd put him up to the "Little Girl" bit.

I turned my gaze to the probable culprit, and…it wasn't just the fact that in a few summers, Edward had gone from just a tad bit above me to just a tad bit above his brother, there was a new…rugged look to him. Bits of copper fuzz were visible over his top lip, along his jaw line, and when he grinned, his eyes shone, and his jaw angled into a perfect square. Despite the quick growth spurt, he wasn't lanky; he knew how to carry his height, standing confident and self-assured.

My recurring dream suddenly returned, and feeling my face flush, I looked away.

But the damage to my almost-thirteen-year-old heart had already been done.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the end of that first afternoon with Jasper, I realized that he fit as if he'd always been part of our group, and he and I got along as if we'd known each other just as long.

Later on, squeezed together side by side on the tire swing under the evergreen while Rose sat on the grass, Alice and I caught up as we watched the boys roughhousing a few yards away while Sandy ran circles around all of us.

I learned that now that they were sixteen, Rose and Masen's relationship was no longer a secret – though being out in the open also meant being watched more closely.

I learned about Alice's crushes throughout the year.

I learned that this past school year, Edward practically had to beat the girls away with a stick.

"They buzz around him like bees to honey," she chuckled.

"Does he have a sweetheart?" I asked, hoping I was the only one who heard the way my voice shook.

"Nope," Rose answered. "Not yet."

"How 'bout you, Bella?" Alice asked. "Have you had any crushes this year?"

"Only on Clark Gable," I lied and then quickly changed the subject. "Why does Jasper limp?"

"He was born with one leg shorter than the other," Alice said. "But he's just as fast and strong as my brothers. Look! He's got Edward pinned!"

Jasper did indeed have Edward pinned to the ground, but then Edward growled and flipped them over, and then Masen jumped in and flung them both to the hard, muddy earth.

"At least Edward has found someone with whom to fight without getting into trouble," I mused.

"Edward has always been full of extra energy," Rose said.

"Hey, don't you think Jasper is handsome?" Alice asked. There was a dreamy quality to her voice that made me stop swinging.

At fourteen, Alice was taller and more physically developed than I. Sure, I knew I _looked_ just like Mother, but other than my face and hair, I had nothing that screamed "Girl!" the way Alice and Rose did.

I tilted my head sideways and studied the new boy, imagining him with washed and brushed hair instead of the bird's nest he had now. I imagined the mud in the creases of his forehead and cheeks gone, and I pictured those filthy denim overalls after a good scrub.

"I suppose he's handsome," I allowed.

Yet my eyes strayed to the boy roughhousing with him and Masen. His copper hair was as equally wild and dirty as Jasper's, and his face was the same muddy mess, as were his shirt and corduroys. But when I looked at him…I didn't need to imagine him all washed to find him handsome.

Clean or dirty, tall or short, there would never be a boy as dreamy as Edward Cullen.

OOOOOOOOOO

One evening in late July, I'd been allowed to go to the Cullen's for supper again. Mother was never too happy about this, but I was growing and learning, and I always made sure to ask permission from Papa Phil.

Jasper had been invited as well, and all throughout supper, he regaled us with tales of the Iditarod races for which his grandfather had once raised Alaskan Huskies. See, he didn't just _like_ animals the way Masen did, Jasper believed that dogs were as smart as humans and could be trained to do just about anything. He told us about dogs that had sniffed out missing people buried under snow, about dogs that had been used after the Great San Francisco Earthquake of '06 to dig out survivors under rubble. He would look at Sandy and tell me about all the wonderful things she could do if I just trained her right, and something about the way he humanized Sandy and her fellow canine's abilities fascinated me. I spent a whole lot of time that summer with Jasper while he patiently taught Sandy to dig out my hair bows or my sweaters from under two feet of dirt.

Edward on the other hand, had been teasing me more than usual all summer. He'd regressed to calling me "Little Girl" again, more than he had the previous couple of summers. He'd roll his eyes and call me a "silly little thing" when I'd ask Jasper all my questions. It didn't feel so much malicious as much as a desire to keep me in my place as the "little girl" of the group – when I was so anxious that summer to prove myself anything but.

After dinner that night, we spent some time messing around with Esme's piano. Jasper and I shared the piano bench while I tried to teach him Mozart pieces and he played very bad chopsticks renditions.

Edward abruptly snapped at us. "Will you two stop that? I'm trying to listen to _The Woodbury Soap Hour."_

"He's just jealous cuz I play better than he does," Jasper whispered loudly.

"You think you play better than me with your tone deaf, no-talent, rickety, weak old fingers?" Edward hissed.

Jasper smiled, but kept right on playing.

"Edward, why don't you play for us, Son?" Esme suggested.

"Nah," Edward said, as he always did.

"Come on, Edward," I pleaded. "I've never heard you play. I bet you don't really play at all," I said, in a sudden mood to pay him back for all the teasing he'd been doing of me lately.

Edward raised a brow my way. "You think I can't play, huh?"

"That's what I think," I grinned.

His eyes shifted from me to Jasper and back. Then with a strange expression, he made his way to the piano and tapped Jasper's shoulder, jerking his thumb.

"Hit the road, Whitlock."

When Edward took a seat next to me, his long leg brushed against mine, and my stomach fluttered just as it did whenever I dreamed of him. Then he turned and grinned at me.

"All right, Little Girl," he smirked, "Let me show you something about playing, and don't you say you didn't ask for it."

I chuckled again, but it was a weird, shaky chuckle, and I prayed no one could see the way my chest heaved while Edward made a big show of weaving his long fingers together and stretching his lean arms up over his head.

"Gotta loosen those magic appendages," he explained with a wink my way that made butterflies dance in my belly.

And then with an exaggerated sigh, Edward began playing, his fingers moving swiftly and expertly over the keys. Then, he began singing:

_In some secluded rendezvous__  
__That overlooks the avenue__  
__With someone sharing a delightful chat__  
__Of this and that__  
__And cocktails for two_

_As we enjoy a cigarette__  
__To some exquisite chansonnette__  
__Two hands are sure to slyly meet beneath__  
__A serviette__  
__With cocktails for two_

Carlisle set his paper down. "Edward, I don't believe that's an appropriate song, young man."

"It gets better, Dad," Edward assured Carlisle.

_My head may go reeling__  
__But my heart will be obedient__  
__With intoxicating kisses__  
__For the principal ingredient_

"Edward…" Esme warned, but Edward kept right on playing.

_Most any afternoon at five__  
__We'll be so glad we're both alive__  
__Then maybe fortune will complete her plan__  
__That all began__  
__With cocktails for two_

I clapped my hands wildly. "Edward, what was that?"

He grinned smugly. "That's Duke Ellington, Little Girl."

Esme shook her head ruefully. "Edward, if Bella's parents were here, they'd never allow her to visit again."

Edward kept his eyes on me. "She ain't a baby no more, but just in case, we'll have to make sure they never find out."

Then he winked again, and I had to remind myself how to breathe. "Can you teach me to play that?"

"Now see what you've done, Son?" Carlisle scolded.

Edward and I looked at one another and laughed as if we had no real cares in the world.

Because at that point in our lives, we didn't.

OOOOOOOOOO

As fascinated as I'd been in the beginning of the summer by Jasper and his dog training skills, they failed to hold a candle to piano lessons from Edward. It didn't take too much convincing to keep me indoors with him on the piano instead of running around with Jasper and the rest for the next couple of weeks.

By the time my thirteenth birthday gala rolled around at the end of August, I was an expert at a couple of jazz pieces Edward had taught me, yet knowing Mother as I was beginning to, it was Master Mozart that I regaled everyone with.

"Maybe next year, I'll play a Duke Ellington piece for my birthday," I mused jokingly once I was done.

Peter, who had arrived with his parents a few days earlier, made a comment which only echoed my thoughts.

"Isabella, I highly doubt your mother will allow you to play Duke Ellington for your next birthday gala."

"She can play whatever she wants. If she likes jazz, why shouldn't she play jazz?" Edward scowled.

"I didn't say she shouldn't be _able_ to play what she wants; I merely said I doubt her mother will allow her to do so."

"Someday, she'll be an adult, making her own decisions."

Peter laughed. "That's easily said by someone like you."

Edward stepped closer to Peter. Once, Peter had towered over him, but it hadn't stopped Edward then. And now that Edward was the slightly taller one, it still made no difference. They were like oil and vinegar, those two.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Isabella is Philip Dwyer's daughter," Peter said matter-of-factly. "There are certain expectations that will always come with that."

"Expectations," Edward sneered, glaring at Peter. "Well as someone _like me_ would know, expectations and a shiny, new nickel'll get you nothing more than a bottle of soda pop."

For a few, strained moments, it seemed as if Peter was going to have some sort of retort. But then he simply swallowed.

"Yes, I suppose it will."

OOOOOOOOOO

The tension of the moment passed, and a few of us went outside to enjoy the cooler evenings August always brought with it; a reminder that our time together was growing short.

And that I still hadn't confessed my wish to Edward.

As Alice and I slowly swung on the swings in the big, back yard, I wondered aloud what Edward and Jasper were discussing under a tree a few yards away.

"Bella…"

I looked at Alice, who drew in a deep breath. "Yesterday evening, before he went home…Jasper told me he was sweet on me. But I told him I had to think about it. I wanted to talk to you first to make sure you weren't sweet on him!"

"You think I'm sweet on Jasper?" I asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "Well, I have wondered…I mean, you've both gotten along really well this summer…"

"That's because I enjoy the things he teaches Sandy. It doesn't mean I'm sweet on him!"

"Bella, you're my best friend above all, and if it bothers you-"

"Alice," - I placed my right hand on my flat chest - "I'm not sweet on him. I promise." Then I grinned. "Is he going to be your beau now?"

She studied me carefully for a few seconds, and then satisfied, Alice squealed with excitement.

"I think that may be what he's talking to Edward about!"

By now, Jasper was making his way to us. His expression, for once, revealed nothing.

"Uhm, I think I'll give you both a moment alone!"

I giggled and ran to Edward, who was now sitting against the tree trunk, writing in his journal. He slammed it shut when I approached.

I adjusted the back of my dress and took a seat next to him.

"What were you and Jasper going on about?"

He snorted and gave me a look of mock irritation.

"Boy, you're gettin' to be as nosy as that sister of mine, you know that?"

"Well?"

He laughed, looking away from me. His long legs were bent at the knee while his elbows rested lazily over them as he gazed out at the mostly empty backyard.

"I don't know if I should tell you outright. It might…hurt your feelings."

"Does he want to be Alice's beau?"

His eyes flashed back to me. "How'd you know that?"

"Alice told me he spoke to her yesterday evening."

Edward scowled, glaring at Jasper, who was now quietly talking to Alice. "Why that little fink! He told me he hadn't spoken to her yet!"

"Why would that hurt my feelings?"

He gave me a sidelong look. "I wasn't sure if…you were sweet on him. You've spent a lot of time with him this summer."

"He knows a lot about dogs that do special things." I shrugged. "I think it's interesting."

"That's it?" he asked.

"That's it," I shrugged again.

"Oh." He chuckled, but then a deep crease formed between his brows. "Well, what about Peter?"

"What about Peter?"

He held my gaze for one long moment before shaking his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Why did Jasper speak to you about being Alice's beau, not to your dad or even Masen?"

He shrugged. "It's always been my job to look out for you girls. That's just the way it is."

We sat silently for a few minutes, watching the evening breeze dance through the manicured grass.

"Edward…"

"Yeah?"

"How come you don't have a sweetheart? Alice told me there's lots of girls who would love to be your sweetheart."

He gave me a scalding look through his long eyelashes. "Boy, is there anything you and Alice don't beat your gums over?"

"Well?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he busied himself pulling out blades of grass from their roots.

"That right there has a long and complicated answer, Little Girl, and I'd rather not get into it right now."

"Why not?" I pushed.

He simply shook his head, refusing to look at me.

I sighed. "So is Jasper going to ask Alice to be his sweetheart?"

"No," he snorted. "At least not yet."

"Why not? I thought that's-"

"Alice is still too young to have a beau. I told him to wait until she's sixteen."

I narrowed my eyes. "Well that doesn't sound fair at all. Masen and Rose have been sweethearts since they were thirteen."

"Masen is smart and knows what he's doing. Alice is just a kid."

I pursed my lips. "You're just saying that because she's a girl."

The wry grin curving around his mouth filled me with indignation.

"So you'd say the same thing about me?"

When he chuckled again, my indignation multiplied.

"I may be young, Edward, but I know what I want."

"Do you now? Then tell me, Little Girl, what is it that you want? A pony? A diamond ring? A pretty, new dress?"

He'd been teasing me all summer, but perhaps it was the way he was teasing me now, with an unfamiliar tone of maliciousness. Perhaps it made me reckless. Perhaps it was merely the heat of the moment. Or perhaps it was because I'd spent all summer wanting this.

"I want…a kiss."

He reeled back, apparently not expecting that answer.

"A kiss?" As if some sudden thought had struck him, he raised both brows and turned his gaze towards the house. "A kiss from _who_?" he hissed.

Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to push forward.

"A kiss…from _you_."

If I hadn't been so gripped by near-hysteria, I may have found it comical how quickly Edward jumped to his feet.

"From _me_?" he howled before looking around to make sure no one had heard him. "From _me_?" he repeated in a much quieter hiss.

"Yes," I said, looking up at him as calmly as I could manage. "From you."

His eyes widened, green eyes frenzied as he raked a clearly shaking hand through his hair.

"Bella, Little Girl, what are you saying? You're too young to be talking about kisses!"

"Edward." I stood as well, facing him squarely. "I'm not ten years old anymore. I'm thirteen now. The same age Masen and Rose were when they first became sweethearts."

He gaped at me, voice quivering. "First of all, you're not thirteen just yet. You've still got a few weeks for that."

"I'll be a teenager in three weeks."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he breathed, shaking his head while his chest heaved. "You're talking crazy is what you're talking. I mean, I'm over here moaning about Jasper and Alice because she's only fourteen, and you're asking me to kiss you, and you're not even thirteen! I'm _fifteen_, Bella!"

My heart constricted painfully, but I refused to give up. "Fine, you want me to be older? I'll wait until next summer when I'll be almost fourteen."

There was no humor in his responding chuckle. "Just like that," he sneered. "We'll wait 'til next summer, as if there's nothing else to ponder, nothing else to think about, no other obstacles."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

His evergreen eyes locked on mine, and when he reached out as if to touch me, I drew in a deep breath - which I released in disappointment when his hand fell away. Then he took a step back, and for a few seconds, simply held my gaze.

He dropped his head and let out a short chuckle.

Then another.

And another.

Pretty soon, he was laughing so hard he dropped to his knees and had to hold his stomach.

"Bella," he spoke through his chuckles, "Bella, you're so young and innocent. You don't even see, do you? You just don't."

It hurt. Of course it did. But I suppose I'd been dreaming of Edward's kiss for too long to stop now.

"Are you saying no?"

Edward's head whipped up. He stopped laughing and swallowed thickly.

But he didn't say no.

"You're crazy," he repeated, but his voice shook again, and it carried no conviction whatsoever.

"You're not saying no to me, Edward."

"Bella-"

I cut him off and spoke quickly. "I understand that I caught you by surprise, and I know that the summer is almost over and that I'll be leaving soon. Say not now, but don't say no."

"Bella, you don't understand. It's not that easy-"

"Just don't say no, Edward. I may be young, and I may be innocent, but I know what I want. And what I want more than anything in the world…is for my first kiss to be yours."

##########

Isabella throws her head back and laughs hysterically.

"Nana," she cries, "that was epic! How did you work up the nerve for all that? So did he kiss you at the end of that summer or did he wait until the following summer?"

I smile tenderly at her. "To this day, I have no idea how I worked up the nerve. I suppose I was more frightened of not telling him how I felt than of telling him. And no, he didn't kiss me that summer, though I did fully expect him to be my first kiss the following summer."

I sigh deeply, remembering.

"But sometimes…as Edward himself once said…expectations and a shiny, new nickel'll buy you nothing more than a bottle of soda pop."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #10: **_**They Can't Take That Away From Me**_** (1937) by Fred Astaire **

_**The way your smile just beams**__**  
**__**The way you sing off key**__**  
**__**The way you haunt my dreams**__**  
**__**No, no, they can't take that away from me**_

******All right, Guys, The Age of Innocence will be back on Monday, Jan. 5****th**** 2015!**

******Next Week, Monday, Dec. 15****th****, we'll begin a five-part outtake to Spin &amp; Sway, updating daily!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	10. Chapter 9 - Aching

**A/N: Happy New Year All!**

**Hope everyone enjoyed the holidays and that you're all starting off the New Year exactly the way you want to. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Aching **

During the summer of 1938, the nation continued its struggle with unemployment and with a midwestern drought that refused to abate. Meanwhile, Europe was in the midst of a political struggle with a German dictator hell-bent on annexing countries on her nation's borders regardless of threats and warnings. In the U.K., gas masks were handed out to her citizens as a precaution because no one was quite sure of what that dictator was capable.

It was the twilight of peace for an entire continent, yet as the _21__st__ Century Limited_ left behind the hilly landscape of the east coast in the U.S. and wound its way into the Midwest, these were all the least of an almost-fourteen-year-old girl's worries. I was well fed, well-dressed, well-educated, and sleeping safely and usually soundly every night. Though I did have my own concerns, they had nothing to do with madmen running rampant in a land far, far away.

Not yet.

For the time being, the first thing that had butterflies fluttering nervously about in the pit of my stomach was the thought of having to face Jacob again after last year's near-kiss fiasco. Nevertheless, by the end of my first day back in Chicago, I realized that my months of worry had been for naught.

Jacob and I loved each other too much to let a silly thing like an almost-kiss come between us. Through an unspoken agreement, we pretended that the "almost-kiss" had never even happened. We laughed and talked easily, we listened to _Information Please _on the radio; we even took in a Saturday matinee together. By the end of that week, I was sure that if Jacob still wanted to kiss me, he didn't want it badly enough to risk our friendship – for which I was entirely grateful.

With that first concern resolved, I could now focus more fully on the second thing that had me tied in knots for months: the rioting mess of new and exciting needs and wants I'd been experiencing since the previous summer. Privileged enough to have all my basic and not-so-basic needs and wants met, what I wanted and needed more than anything in the world was my first, real kiss…

But not from just anyone…

##########

"From the copper-haired boy?" Isabella questions knowingly.

I nod my head and sigh. "From the copper-haired boy."

##########

On the occasion of my 1938 arrival in Forks, I made my way to the river with quick and airy steps. When Sandy emerged from between the thicket of branches and bushes, I squealed in delight, and she in turn whimpered happily when she spotted me, jumping up and putting her paws against my legs. Four years old now, Sandy could no longer be considered a puppy, yet she reacted with the same open, innocent joy she always did when I returned. As for me, I giggled aloud because despite Mother's less-than-euphoric yearly receptions and despite my stepsister Lauren's presence this summer, I lived for these moments; I lived for these months.

Kneeling over the grass, I ran the palm of my hand back and forth over Sandy's shaggy, sand-colored mane.

"I missed you too, Girl. What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

Alice and Jasper emerged from between the trees just then, and Alice quickly ran to me. One year is a long time for best friends to be apart, especially when you're at that stage between childhood and womanhood, and all you want to do is gossip and compare notes. Last year, I hadn't known how to express to Alice what I felt for her brother. Introducing the subject over our periodic letters hadn't seemed appropriate either.

But this year, kisses were always on my mind: Hollywood kisses, kisses in songs, kisses my friends shared, kisses I didn't want, and especially…kisses I was yearning for…

"Were you and Jasper sneaking kisses?" I asked as we made our way to the river with Jasper whistling behind us.

The summer before, Edward had put a waiting period on their relationship, but only _I_ knew that despite Jasper's valiant attempts, the waiting period had lasted about as long as it had taken Alice to bat her pretty eyelashes. Fifteen-year-old Alice Cullen had already had her first kiss – and her second, third and fourth…

And apparently now, her fifth.

"Just one," she whispered close to my ear. "We didn't mean to, but Sandy took off running, and I came after her…"

I giggled. "Now that we're together, you'll have to describe kissing to me better," I whispered back. "You write so sloppy that I could barely read the descriptions in your letters!"

"Oh, Bella!" she squealed under her breath, closing her eyes. "It's like…like the sun suddenly shines on only you, giving only you its heat and warmth and making you tingle all the way down to your toes!"

I grinned, closing my own eyes at her wonderful description.

At that age where romance first blossoms inside a young girl's heart and mind, her imagination can run pretty wild. I'd therefore spent the past year imagining myself as a starlet in a Hollywood movie…except instead of Ginger Rogers, it was me…and instead of Fred Astaire, it was Edward who would pull me into his arms, tilt me back, snake one arm around my waist and kiss me until I forgot how to breathe.

##########

"Humph," I snort, amused by the recollection of my almost-fourteen-year-old-girl musings.

"Well, isn't that how it happened?"

The unexpected voice startles me. When I look to my side, Skye (or it might be Olivia) is sitting there cross-legged, and when I turn my head to the other side, her twin sister is there.

"Now when did you two join us?"

"We've been sitting here for a while, Nana," Olivia (Skye) informs me. "Since the campout with the ghost story where you ended up peeing on yourself." She wraps an arm around my shoulder. "By the way, don't feel bad about that, Nana. I farted in front of the captain of the football team once. Now please continue; I want to hear all about this kiss in detail!" She rubs her palms together.

"Girls, stop rushing Nana," Isabella scolds. "Okay, Nana, continue please," she says, sounding just as anxious as her girls.

I sigh. "All right, all right."

##########

Well, I could hear the river before I could see it. The lulling roar of the flowing current and whitewater breaking against the rocks by the banks were familiar and comforting sounds, ones that always managed to bring a smile to my face. I smiled even wider when I heard Masen and Rose's voices rise above the water and quickened my steps.

Alice's laughter followed me as I rushed forward. "Bella, wait! There's actually something crazy I've got to tell you!"

Rose and Masen were indeed in the water, splashing around just as I'd imagined them. But my attention was diverted from them because Edward was walking towards me.

Every year, the real Edward was always so different from the one my memory allowed from the previous summer: always taller, his features always ruggedly sharper, and his jaw always more chiseled than the year before. His hair was shorter than I'd ever seen it that summer, cropped close on the sides and just a bit longer on top, and though he'd always been lean, there was an athletic, muscular build to him he hadn't had before.

But these were all things I noted in my periphery, in the small part of my brain that wasn't currently bewildered by the sight before me; at the sight of Edward smiling while he held Jessica Stanley's hand wrapped inside his.

"Hey, Bella."

"We've been waiting for you, Isabella," Jessica grinned.

I'll admit that at first, I had a difficult time making sense of what I was seeing. Young and naïve, I tilted my head sideways, studying their linked hands, shifting my eyes back up and over them while my mind slowly made the connection; while all my Hollywood-themed fantasies drifted away, carried off in the wind like broken leaves after a thunderous storm.

"I see Sandy found you. She's been excited all day, like she could sense you were coming. When she took off running, I knew it was you. I just knew…"

He trailed off, and thankfully, Alice shoved her arm through mine and pulled me away.

"Isn't that just the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen?" she whisper-laughed. "Honestly, of all the girls he's had moony-eyed over him in school all year, he courts Jessica Stanley! Jessica Stanley, who giggles like a horse and has boobs as big as tropical pineapples!"

I could only manage to nod dumbly. My voice had gotten lost somewhere between my constricted heart and the lump in my throat.

##########

"Oh, Nana," Olivia (Skye) whispers, placing a young, smooth hand over my much older, spotted one.

I smile and pat her hand. "You children think we older folk don't understand, but I'll tell you this: a broken heart in 1938 is just as painful as is a broken heart nowadays. And I'll tell you something else." I sigh deeply, gazing off into the distant woods. "The memory of a broken heart can make you ache as much at ninety as it did at thirteen."

##########

"Your letters didn't mention that Edward and Jessica are sweethearts."

I mentioned this to Alice as coolly as possible later that afternoon. She and I were on the tire swing under the evergreen while the day's cool breeze blew through our hair.

"That's because it just happened," Alice said, "right before his birthday."

There was so much more I wanted to ask but had no idea how. Luckily, I could always count on Alice to volunteer as much information as possible.

"He's had a few girls after him this year, now that he's grown into his skin, as Mama says," she snickered. "They follow him and Jasper everywhere, in school and to their baseball games. Some of the hussies even make smoochy faces at them," she scowled. "Can you believe that? Anyway, Jasper doesn't pay them any mind," she assured me, "and neither does Edward really, not even that floozy Tanya, who followed him down all the halls in school this year."

"Has he kissed Jessica?" I asked, stupidly holding my breath.

"'Course he has," Alice smirked. "Otherwise, what would be the point?"

It was as if an arrow had pierced through the soft, young layers of my naïve heart.

"Anyway," Alice chuckled, unaware of what her detailed information was doing to me, "we had no idea he liked her that way. He gets crabby if any of us say anything, says it's no one's business but his who he courts, so we leave him alone, but my goodness, Jessica Stanley! It's weird, isn't it?"

And all the while, all I could think of was how stupid I'd been. Tall, smart, strong and beautiful, sixteen-year-old Edward Cullen…with so many pretty girls after him. And here I was barely fourteen and built like a young boy, and only in Forks for two months out of the long year. What had I truly expected?

"Bella?"

"What? Oh yeah, yes. Yes."

OOOOOOOOOO

It was a cold summer, rainier than usual. The boys were working now, odd jobs in town for Masen and Jasper as well as helping around their parents' places while Edward had given up his paper route to one of the younger, local kids and traded up to a store clerk's job at Jessica's parents' mercantile.

Alice and I therefore spent more time than usual alone, out of the river more than in it due to the weather. I was grateful I'd never gotten around to telling her what I felt for her brother, as it wasn't something I would've wanted to explore in the detail she always required. Once the summer was over and I was back on the _Union Builder_ heading east, I'd let myself take inventory of the damage that had been done.

Still, I won't say I moped around all summer because I didn't.

"What do you think he means by 'aching' Bella?" Alice asked me one afternoon mid-July. We were lying on the moist grass by the evergreen, just her and me. She'd been describing kisses to me again. It was harder to pay attention now that it seemed I wouldn't be getting _my_ kiss this summer, but I listened patiently because she was my best friend.

"He tells me that after he kisses me, he aches all over, and I don't really know what that means."

"Hmm." I frowned and lifted myself on my elbows. "I'm not exactly sure, but…when Dad took me to the movies and Clark Gable gazed all moony-eyed at Claudette Colbert, it kind of made my belly tingle in a strange way. I suppose you could've called it an ache."

"I think I know what you mean," she said thoughtfully, mimicking my pose. "It's like when I caught Masen and Rose behind the barn, kissing and moaning, and then Masen reached out and touched Rose's boob-"

"He didn't!" I whispered in shock.

"Yes, he did," Alice confirmed with a sly smile that let me know she'd just been dying for a way to squeeze that little tidbit into the conversation. "They didn't see me watching, and Masen started moaning louder and louder, sounding like he was truly aching somewhere. Anyway, it made me feel all funny in my belly too." She lay back down.

It was a few minutes before I could speak. "Wow."

I lay back down while small pellets of rain drizzled down over us, yet I kept my eyes on the grey sky above, blinking against the drops that landed over my lids.

"Bella, why didn't you let Jacob kiss you last summer?"

"I don't really know." I shrugged.

She turned on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "Well, you've said he's got the looks of Errol Flynn and the personality of Jimmy Stewart, so he sounds pretty dreamy."

I nodded.

"And you do like him."

Again, I nodded. Of course I liked Jacob. I loved Jacob.

Propping myself on my elbow as well, I asked, "Tell me again what you feel when you kiss Jasper."

Alice closed her eyes. "When his lips touch mine, it feels…it feels like I'm floating in heaven itself, yet every single part of my body feels like it's burning."

"How can you feel like you're burning if you're in heaven?"

"You just can, Bella. You can."

OOOOOOOOOO

The cool, mountain breeze caressed my face, like warm fingers against my skin despite the chill in the air. When I opened my eyes, I was met with a set of deep evergreen ones gazing down at me.

"You fell asleep," Edward said. He was sitting next to me on the grass, one of his hands suspended in mid-air, halfway between us. He quickly raked it through his hair.

I sat up slowly, rubbing from my eyes the confusion that muddles your mind in those first few seconds after waking.

"Where's Alice?"

He shrugged. "Probably hiding somewhere with Jasper. Those two think I don't know what's going on," he scowled.

My mind beginning to clear, I bristled at his comment. "It's not for you to say when Jasper and Alice are old enough to love each other."

"Love each other?" Edward crooked a sardonic brow. "Alice is only fifteen, Bella. She has no idea what love is."

"And you do?" He looked away from me, and the ache that I'd been trying so hard to suppress for weeks now threatened to break free. "Have you fallen in love this summer, Edward?"

His eyes flashed quickly back to mine as if I'd totally caught him off guard. At first I thought he wouldn't answer, but then he shook his head.

"See, that's proof of how young you are. Not everything has to do with love, Bella."

"Then why, Edward? Why?"

He held my gaze intently, yet this time he did refuse me an answer.

I swallowed thickly. "Was she your first kiss?"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he nodded.

"You're breaking my heart."

I whispered it in the wind, and if it wasn't for the sudden pain and misery that shot through his expression, I wouldn't even have thought it audible. Bending his knees and resting his forearms over them, he dropped his head and shook it from side to side.

"I should've never let you say those things last summer. I…I don't want to hurt you, but you don't understand that because you're so young, and you think everything is so simple. Well, it's not, Little Girl," he hissed almost angrily. "You don't _know_ what you feel. You think you know what's real, but you don't, and soon all of this will be forgotten, and you and I will be back to normal, and it'll be better that way. You'll see."

I've no idea if he knew that every word he spoke just made the hole he'd opened in my chest gape even more. As a child, I'd been mesmerized by Dad's sad smiles; now I was masochistically captivated by the way in which Edward's lips moved miserably around each heart-wrenching syllable.

I thought of Jacob then, of how things had gone back to normal with us this summer after last summer's almost-kiss. I didn't know if he still _wanted_ to kiss me, but if he did, it wasn't enough to risk our friendship.

With a sickening roll of my stomach, I realized that in this situation, _I_ was supposed to be Jacob.

"I'm not a child anymore," I found myself saying shakily. "If you don't feel for me what I feel for you, then I have to accept that, but don't try to tell me that I don't know my heart or that in time I'll forget or that I can't tell the difference between what's real and what's not because I learned that difference a long time ago."

"Bella…"

But I didn't stay to listen to any more. Instead, I forced myself to my feet and walked away.

OOOOOOOOOO

The days dragged. Edward avoided me all the more, and lacking either perspective-giving time or maturity or both, I avoided him as well and did my best to enjoy the rest of the short, summer reprieve I had from the rest of the year. But in those moments when I would fight with self-control, I'd watch Edward and vacillate between regret at not being able to be more like Jacob - and downright fury.

We were by the river one day in mid-August when the boys weren't working. It was another blustery day, as most of the days this summer had been. Regardless, while most had decided to brave the cold sting of the river since we'd been deprived of it so much this season, I sat at one end of the footbridge, laughing at their antics and at Sandy, who kept jumping in and out of the water. I pretended that I couldn't see Edward, Jessica and my stepsister, Lauren sitting together at the other end of the bridge.

Instead, I watched Masen climb one of the trees on the bank of the river and give a yell like Tarzan before jumping from a thick branch and straight into the freezing cold water.

"Oh hell that's cold!" he roared.

"It can't be that bad!" Rose insisted, following suit. Her ensuing scream when she landed inside Masen's cold arms was answer enough.

"Bella, come in! It's not _that_ cold!" Alice called invitingly.

"Your teeth are chattering, and I can see your goose bumps from here!" I laughed.

"Come on, Little Sister!" Jasper yelled. "Leave those scaredy cats there on the footbridge and come on in! Me and Alice'll look out for you!"

"Don't call her in, Jasper; that water's too rough for her today."

Indignation shot through me like an arrow at Edward's nerve to speak for me when he'd barely said a word to me in days. Ignoring him, I simply laughed off Alice and Jasper's invitation.

However, Alice wasn't ready to give up. "Bella, come on! It's been so long since we've all played in the river! Come on!"

Then she and Jasper took up a chorus of "Bella! Bella! Bella!"

The thought of being in that cold river sent shudders through me. I did have on a swimsuit - a pretty, white one-piece, if I recall correctly, with a fitted, scalloped waist and shaped cups that added a bit of curve where nature still refused to tread. And despite the fact that I was still petite, the river only reached me to my neck now. And they did seem to be having loads of fun…

"Bella, you're not going in there."

I turned my eyes sharply towards Edward. Out of my periphery, I could see Lauren and Jessica's eyes on me as well, and it infuriated me all the more.

"Bella, did you finally learn how to swim?"

Jessica had barely said more than two words to me all summer. Today though, her partner in crime was here, and sure enough, Lauren giggled at Jessica's wittiness.

Edward on the other hand wasn't as amused. "Hey, what the hell did I tell you about that?"

"I'm not teasing her," Jessica assured him quickly. "I'm just asking."

I believe they may have argued a bit, yet despite the fact that he was defending me, I couldn't have cared less at that point. I was no longer the little girl he needed to look after, and so I took in that entire discussion secondarily because I was already making my way to the tree, scaling it like an expert: grabbing every nook, poking my feet into every crevice and quietly hissing when I scratched my leg.

As I made my way up to the massive branch, Sandy started barking below me.

"Shh, it's okay, Girl," I said soothingly.

"Bella get down from there!" Edward yelled. "I said you're not going in the river!"

Anger and hurt morphed into drive and determination, and I continued my climb upwards towards the large, wide branch.

"Bella!"

Sandy's barking intensified.

"It's all right, Girl!" I called out.

"Edward, leave her alone!" Alice shouted. "You think you can always tell us what to do!"

"Alice, mind your damn- Bella!"

My heart raced in my chest, but my eyes focused only on the river now below me.

"Bella, get down from there!"

His voice was much closer now, and Sandy's barking turned into howls offered high up into the mountain air.

"Bella, maybe you shouldn't," Jasper said. "Dogs have a sixth sense."

"Bella, just get down," Rose called out.

"Bella, Little Sis, the water's too rough."

"Bella, maybe they're right. Sandy's scaring me," Alice said.

But I simply drew in a deep, steadying breath, steeling myself for the drop as a sudden sense of exhilaration coursed through me.

"Bella! Bella, damn it, reach for my hand and let me get you down from there!" Edward ordered, his voice just a few feet further back.

My windblown hair coiled around my face. I pushed it back briskly.

"Edward Cullen, it's not your job to watch over me! You're not my father or _anyone_ who can tell me what to do!"

I grinned and gazed down at the water with a longing that suddenly felt so freeing. And when I jumped, a low, vicious oath rang out behind me.

The cold was the first thing that startled me. It penetrated my skin like a million, sharp spears, digging through each and every layer until I could feel it all the way into my soul.

Yes, it was…thrilling.

It was as if the river's frigidness had rid me of the constant ache, had made me forget everything even for just the few seconds that I was submerged. Eyes closed, I managed a smile underwater, and for those few seconds before I resurfaced, I truly believed that Edward was correct and that somehow, when I emerged, everything would be set right.

And so with a quick jump, I surfaced, and for that fraction of a second, as I looked at Alice and Jasper, I did wonder at the matching expressions of horror etched on their faces.

But in the next fraction of a second, when a bewilderingly sharp pain shot across the top of my head, all I heard was Edward howling, "NO!" before everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #11: **_**Cry, Baby, Cry (1938)**_** by Larry Clinton and His Orchestra:**

**Cry, baby, cry  
****Cry, baby, cry  
****Just the way I did the day you broke my heart****  
**

*****And Happy Birthday to the sweetest, funniest and most dedicated BETA a girl could ever have: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHELLE RENKER RHODES! XOXOXOXO*****

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

***I'm working on another project right now, so I may not be able to update on Thursday. If I don't, there will be another update next Monday. We shall see. :) ***

**See you in a few days!**


	11. Chapter 10 - Out on the Porch

**A/N: I wasn't sure if I'd be able to update today. I'm working on something else, but you guys were so upset about where we left off the other day. :)**

**While I do have the next few chapters written out, I continually work on them all the way to posting, and I wasn't sure if I'd have time to do that with this chapter. But here you go. :)**

**This and the next chapter were originally supposed to be one chapter, but it was extremely long (and the chapters on this story are already long to begin with), so I split it in two. This guarantees you updates today and next Monday. If I get far enough along in my other project, I'll take a look at the following chapter for this and get it ready for next Thursday.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belongs to me.**

**Chapter 10: Summer 1938 (continued) - Out on the Porch**

* * *

The world faded in and out as if a heavy fog had descended around me, and just as the fog would begin to lift, darkness would return. I was trapped in a tunnel with only the most nebulous sights and sounds: murky glimpses of jostling water, blurry arms, panicked faces and Sandy…Sandy trying to jump on me as I lay on the cold, hard ground.

Then everything went black once more.

OOOOOOOOOO

Vague, indistinct sounds returned concurrently with a powerful, heavy pressure that weighed down over my chest.

"Come on, damn it! Wake up! Wake up!"

The weight on my chest increased, pressing down on me harder, with more urgency.

"…lift her legs like Pop says…Ed, you breathe into…"

A hand caressed my face, easing away my hair, and then…warmth…pure, unadulterated warmth.

My eyes popped open.

I coughed and spluttered, regurgitating water and suddenly so, so cold.

"She's awake! She's awake!"

Someone or something licked my face, whimpering at my side while I shivered violently. It took my eyes a few seconds to be able to focus, and when they did, the first thing they focused on was Edward.

He was on his knees next to me, fully dressed and soaked, dripping from head to foot while his breath came in short, heavy spurts. Sandy kept licking me, and I suddenly had the most peculiar sense of déjà vu.

Kneeling on my other side were Masen and Jasper, and standing behind them were Rose and Alice, crying. Jess stood next to them looking stupidly shocked.

"Bella, you're okay," Alice whispered in a choked voice.

"Her head is bleeding really badly," Rose said.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, even superficial ones," Masen said. "We won't know how bad it is until we get her back to the house."

The words were barely out of Masen's mouth when Edward slipped his arms under me, and suddenly, despite how cold I felt and how wet he was, I was surrounded by the most overwhelming warmth as he picked me up and cradled me in his arms, close to his chest.

When my head bounced, a whimper escaped me.

"Careful, Edward! Careful!" Masen said.

"I know!" Edward yelled. The vehemence of his words rattled his chest and reverberated against my head. Slowly, I looked up, but Edward kept his eyes ahead. It didn't prevent me from seeing the fire burning in them though, or his undeniable anger.

"I told you not to jump!"

I blinked a few times, trying to clear the still-billowing fog addling my senses, but my head hurt, and it would be so much easier to simply close my eyes until we arrived…

"Keep your eyes open!"

My eyes startled open.

"Keep 'em open!"

OOOOOOOOOO

After a few minutes, Masen asked Edward to hand me over for a while, but Edward ignored him.

"Edward, she's not as small as she used to be," Masen insisted while Edward kept walking – running really. "You're about to drop her!"

Edward stopped and carefully pulled me away from his chest to transfer me to Masen's arms. As he did, I noticed a big, red stain on his shirt. My hand went up to my head and when it came back, it was soaked in blood.

I made a strangled sound as Masen took me and gently pressed me against his own chest.

"Shh, it's okay, Little Sister," he said soothingly. "You'll be fine, but Pop has to check you."

"I hit my head."

"You sure did. Next time you jump up while in the river, how 'bout making sure you're not surrounded by rocks? Now," he said seriously, "you know the drill. What's your name?"

"Isabella Marie Dwyer."

"What day is it?"

"I…don't know."

"All right," he said slowly. "Do you remember who the President is?"

"Same one as last time I almost died?"

Masen smirked. "Give me his name, Honey."

"Franklin Delano Roosevelt."

"Good," he nodded.

"See? I'm fine. Can you please put me down now? I'm bleeding all over you."

"What's a little blood between little sisters and big brothers?" He chuckled.

After a few minutes, I was handed over to Jasper. Though he was as strong as the others, with his bad leg, it wasn't easy for him to support my weight for very long. He and Alice joked with me to try and get me to ignore the fact that my blood was soaking his chest. I wanted to laugh, to forget my most current pain and humiliation, but my head felt as light and woozy as if it were still underwater, and my chest ached.

"Stay awake, Little Girl," Jasper smiled when he saw my eyes fluttering once more.

"Here, give her back to me."

Though Edward reclaimed me, he made no effort to engage me in any sort of conversation. He didn't smile or crack jokes. The sun peeking through the canopy of branches caught the hair growing around his clenched jaw, highlighting the dark birthmark just barely hidden under the scruff. The long branches left their silhouette along his darkened eyes, bouncing shadows off of his sullen expression.

Yet despite everything, I had the strangest ache to reach out and brush my fingers against that birthmark, to touch it and trace its perfectly round shape. It was something I would've easily done a couple of summers ago when things were so different between us. Instead, I rested my head against his chest and tried to let his warmth, seeping through his wet clothing, kindle my cheek.

"Don't close your eyes," he muttered.

I sighed and looked up at him. "Edward, I'm sorry I didn't listen."

He swallowed, and I felt his chest heaving against my shoulder.

"You want me to treat you differently," he finally said through gritted teeth, "but then you go and act just like a little kid."

I stared at him until it became obvious that he had no intention of meeting my gaze, and then I tore away my eyes, working simply on regulating my labored, painful breaths because he may as well have punched me in the stomach. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to punch him back, to smack his face, to break his perfect nose and blacken those bright, green eyes.

I wanted to rip out his black heart.

But I was a young lady educated at Miss Tudor's, so instead I bit down hard on my lip to keep from saying something that would do no more than confirm Edward's continuing assessment of me. And if anyone had asked, I would've told them that the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes were due to my physical aches and not to the fact that Edward had unequivocally and unapologetically stomped on my heart this summer.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Well, Young Lady, you're very lucky that it only seems to be a mild concussion," Carlisle said as his fingers gently yet thoroughly probed my head. "You'll have to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, and you may experience some dizziness and headaches for the next couple of days, but after that you should be just fine, Sweetheart." Finished with his examination, he sat back on the chair next to Alice's bed and smiled ruefully. "Now I would like to keep an eye on you overnight, and unfortunately, you will need stitches."

"I'll be right here with you, Bella, okay?" Alice said, taking my free hand. "And so will Sandy."

Sandy barked her agreement.

I swallowed thickly. "Carlisle, my chest aches a bit too."

"That's from the compressions Edward administered," Esme, who was sitting at my other side, answered. "It's a good thing he didn't crack any ribs." Then she mused quietly, "He must've been in a panic."

"Why would Edward compress my chest?" I wondered aloud. My chest was compressed enough as it was.

"Some say chest compressions help to get the water out of the lungs," Carlisle clarified.

"Oh."

A fuzzy memory, more of a feeling really, suddenly returned to me. There'd been a…warmth back at the river, an intense, all-consuming warmth I'd felt at one point while Edward and the rest had worked to get me breathing.

Unfortunately, it would be a long time before I found out what that warmth had been.

OOOOOOOOOO

Esme administered the dreadful stitches since she apparently had a more tender touch than Carlisle did. After making sure I was comfortable, she left the room to make me soup while Alice and Sandy kept me company. After a few minutes, we heard voices coming from downstairs, and then Mother walked into Alice's bedroom. She hastily took a seat next to me and picked up my hand, pushing Sandy off the bed when she tried to lick our joined hands.

"Ugh, disgusting beast. Isabella, had you listened to what I've been trying to tell you for years now and stayed away from that river, this would've never happened."

"I simply jumped at the wrong time, Mother."

She shook her head. "I don't know how to make you understand that all this time spent…at the river," she sneered..."is just a waste. These aren't the types of activities that will-"

Though I have an idea now, at the time, I didn't know how her sentence would've ended had Papa Phil not walked into the room just then.

Smiling at me, he walked to the other side of the bed, ruffling Alice's hair before picking up my other hand.

"Isabella, Honey, I believe you really are attempting those broken bones."

"No, Sir. I assure you it was an accident, but I'm okay. Esme- uh, Mrs. Cullen gave me four stitches, and she and Doctor Cullen both agree that I should be fine."

Papa Phil nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I spoke to them. You were lucky – once again. It's a good thing that Masen and Edward are strong, young men and fast thinkers. And your sister, Lauren, came running home quick and eager to let us know what happened."

More likely quick and eager to get me into trouble with Mother, I thought, but only nodded.

"Phil, I trust that this time you'll agree that Isabella needs to stay away from that river?"

Papa Phil rubbed his chin with the pads of his fingers, keeping his eyes on me. "Isabella, from now on, you're not to go into that river unless Masen or Edward are in there with you. Understood?"

"Philip!" Mother cried.

"Do you understand, Isabella?"

And though I couldn't picture Edward and me ever in the river together again, I nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"And what about a doctor?" Mother hissed. "Shouldn't she see a real doctor? She's had stitches for God's sakes!"

Papa Phil slowly turned his gaze towards Mother. "Renee, Darling, Isabella _was_ seen by a real doctor. What's more, our daughter will remain here for the next couple of days so that Esme and Carlisle may keep an eye on her."

"You can't be…" Mother drew in a deep breath, however, we'd both learned quite a few things in the past few years, and one of those things was the shaky ground she chose to tread if she tried to challenge Papa Phil on his defense of his neighbors.

She attempted another avenue. "Philip, Darling, I'm sure that Isabella is well enough to come home with us. Why, just look at her. She looks perfectly well. Whatever care she may need can easily be provided by Mrs. Cope and the rest of the staff."

"Renee, Mrs. Cope and the rest of the staff may be wonderful, but they can't provide Isabella with the type of care Carlisle and Esme will be able to provide her for the next couple of days."

The expression on Mother's face clearly spelled out her ire, but she held her tongue, and after a few, short minutes, I was left in the care of the Cullens.

Esme and Alice helped me bathe so that I wouldn't get my stitches wet, and afterwards, I had supper brought up to me in bed. Alice, Jasper, Masen and Rose kept me company. We played Gin Rummy, and I pretended I believed the excuse that Edward hadn't joined us because he wasn't feeling well himself.

Because of my injury, Esme suggested that Alice and I retire early for the night, and so she and I lay in bed for a while talking while Sandy rested at our feet. Soon, Alice was quietly snoring next to me.

Alone with my thoughts now, I was flooded with memories of the way things used to be between Edward and me: the laughter and the games, and even the times I'd cried in front of him.

Was it my fault? Was I just too…immature, too much of a "Little Girl" as he'd continuously called me, to accept the fact that he only saw me as a friend and nothing more? I couldn't force him to feel for me what I felt for him, and what's more, did I really want to completely lose him over it?

Jacob had been able to let his feelings for me go or to conceal them enough so that they wouldn't affect our relationship. Couldn't I do the same with Edward?

All I knew at that moment was that I missed Edward's presence in my life so badly that it made it hard for me to breathe. When I thought of my summers in Forks, I thought of Sandy and Alice and the rest of the Cullens along with Rose and Jasper – and Mother and Papa Phil, of course.

But if I had to be honest with myself in this small bed, in the quiet of the night, then I had to admit that it was Edward that personified the summers for me...that it was Edward I'd always looked most forward to seeing.

I _couldn't_ lose him completely.

Gently, so as to not disturb the bed and wake Alice and so as not to jostle my still aching head too much, I rose. Sandy picked up her head, wagging her tail.

"Shh, I'll be right back, Girl," I whispered reassuringly. Sandy cocked her head sideways, studying me for a few seconds and then lay back down.

On silent feet, I made my way down the short hallway to the room I knew to be Edward's. I knocked once, twice, and waited, but when there was no answer, I figured that Edward and the rest were probably still up and about downstairs somewhere.

So I took the stairs down in my bare feet. I could hear the radio in the kitchen along with Esme and Carlisle's murmured voices and hushed laughter, but there was no one in the living room. Quietly, I opened the front door and stepped out into the darkened evening, sighing as I looked up at the sky, at the thousands and thousands of stars that we'd all gazed at together that night of the camp out.

In the muted silence of the night, with only the occasional hoot from an owl and the buzzing from the varied insects, I detected low undertones, sort of like humming coming from somewhere behind the house. Following the wrap-around porch all the way to the back, my first thought upon seeing the vague outline of people was that it was Masen and Rose.

They were sitting on the porch swing, and Edward's back was to me, his head tilted sideways while he kissed Jessica, who had her eyes closed as she took his hand and guided it under her blouse.

At my sharp gasp, Jessica's eyes popped open, and Edward's hand quickly fell away. When he turned around, the surprise on his face instantly morphed into horror.

"Bella," he breathed.

I turned and ran.

"Bella!"

I ran up the steps, into Alice's room and quickly shut the door behind me. Resting my back against it while my heart beat out a painful rhythm, I shut my eyes tightly, hoping to be somewhere else far away when I reopened them.

But when I did, I was still there.

My breath hitched when a muffled thump hit the other side of the door. Remaining still and quiet, I pressed my body against the frame.

"Bella," Edward whispered, "Bella, open the door."

"Go away," I whispered back.

"Bella!" A few seconds passed. "Bella, please just let…just let me…I didn't touch…but, you don't understand, Bella. I can't…you'd change _everything_…"

"Just go away," I pleaded, sinking to the floor. Sandy trotted over to my side, whimpering softly and licking the moisture off of my cheeks.

There was another thump. "Bella…"

After a few, long minutes, his footsteps finally retreated.

It wasn't until much, much later that I finally climbed back into bed and hugged Sandy close to me, falling asleep as the sun peeked into the horizon.

###########

"Oh, Nana," Skye (Olivia) says. "Boys are such idiots, whether back in 193- wait what year was it?"

"1938."

"Whether back in 1938 or in 2014, they've all got one thing on the brain, and they let the wrong head guide-"

"Olivia, mind yourself," Isabella reprimands.

"Sorry," she mumbles, sounding anything but.

"Frankly Nana, I don't mean any disrespect, but I would've cursed him out at that point," Isabella says. "Please tell me you simply left that summer with your head held high."

I chuckle ruefully. "Not quite, Darling. That summer wasn't quite done with me yet."

"Jeez, Nana," Olivia (Skye) says, "what else could've possibly happened?"

"Well, I'll tell you."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #12: **_**I Won't Tell a Soul (that I love you)**_** (1938) by Andy Kirk**

**I won't tell a soul I love you  
I won't even mention your name  
For I know I've been a fool, dear  
And I've only myself to blame**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you guys on Monday! :)**


	12. Chapter 11 - Apples to Apples

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I truly appreciate them all. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. **

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 (1938 continued) – Apples to Apples**

The next morning, breakfast was an awkward affair, to say the least. I was bruised, exhausted…and miserable in every possible way.

Esme lay the back of her hand against my forehead.

"No fever," she murmured. "But you do seem out of sorts. Is your head aching very badly, Sweetheart? Are your stitches sore?"

"I'm a bit sore, but actually…I'd like to go home today - if that's all right."

Esme set down her utensils. "I really would like to keep an eye on you a bit longer."

"I'm perfectly fine, I assure you," I said. "I'm just…a bit homesick, honestly."

She frowned, and Carlisle set down his paper.

"Are you sure, Bella?" Carlisle asked. "I hope you know you're more than welcome in our home. I know your mom had some…reservations about allowing you to stay, but-"

"I just want to go home," I said.

"Bella, please stay. I'll finish all my chores as quickly as possible and spend the rest of the day with you," Alice pleaded.

"Yeah, come on, Little Sister," Masen coaxed. "I've got to work a full day today, but tonight, I'll bring Rose over, and we can all-"

"I'd really just like to go home."

For one split second, I thought I saw Esme's eyes flash in Edward's direction, but then she smiled – though it was one of those sad smiles that I've mentioned before.

"If that's what you really want, Sweetheart, Carlisle and I will take you home after breakfast."

"Thank you."

The entire time, Edward kept his eyes on his breakfast.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next couple of weeks, I stayed close to home since I'd been told to take it easy, which provided the perfect excuse for my not venturing to the river anymore that summer.

Alice visited me daily, while Rose, Masen, and Jasper came over as often as they were able. The summer was coming to an end, and the days were even cooler than they'd been at the beginning of the season. We spent our time either in my room or playing with Sandy as we wandered around the Dwyer property.

Mother, of course, was thrilled that I was forced to stay close to home – though the fact that I still received unwanted company kept her from being fully ecstatic. Nevertheless, she was so involved in planning my Fourteenth Birthday Gala that not much else registered with her.

In late August, on the night before my birthday party, I had a dream from which I awoke shaking from head to toe and drenched in a cold sweat.

_The copper-haired boy and I were by the river. He grinned at me and then cocked his head sideways, just as I'd seen him do with Jessica, and then he slowly brought his lips to mine…warm and soft, while his very warm hand disappeared under my blouse…_

I quickly sat up. Breathing hard and bewildered, still trapped in that strange land between dream and reality, I lifted up my nightgown to make sure there were no wandering hands in there. Yet as I took in my non-existent chest, I couldn't help but curse Jessica Stanley and all her curves to the deepest pits of hell.

Then I threw myself back against the mattress.

OOOOOOOOOO

"What do you think it is about boobs that boys like?" I asked Alice later that day. We were spread out across my bed waiting for Mrs. Cope to bring me my dress so that she could help me get ready for the party.

Alice shrugged. "I guess it's how round and soft they are."

I bit my lip, staring down at my flat chest once more.

Alice chuckled at my scowl. "Don't worry, they'll grow. You're just a late bloomer. Look at Edward. He was short for years, and now, he's taller than Pop and Masen!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah, he's a real man now."

Alice smoothed down my hair. "Hey, I know he's been crabby these couple of months, but don't take it personally. He's been a crank with everybody."

"I don't care anyway," I said. "He's a big dope."

"Yeah, he is," Alice agreed. "It doesn't matter what those boys do over the summer. You and I will always be best friends."

"Always," I smiled.

OOOOOOOOOO

Peter Vanderneck had arrived a few days before my party. He was now seventeen years old and being groomed by his father to one day take over the vast array of Vanderneck affairs; therefore, he was attempting to improve his social skills by being much more cordial than he used to be. And since I was staying close to home, he and I spent more time together listening to the radio and playing with Sandy. I found that he wasn't as arrogant as I used to believe him.

As I emerged from my bedroom dressed in this year's most current fashions from Milan, Peter was the first person I saw.

He was in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, which fit his tall, lean frame regally. His blue eyes and blond hair contrasted attractively against the dark fabric, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw me in this year's pastel blue creation.

"Isabella, you look…like a young lady."

I chuckled at his continued attempts to polish his manners, and in return, I presented him with a playful curtsy.

"Why thank you, Young Gentleman."

He smiled wider than I'd ever seen him do, revealing a couple of dimples I'd never known he had. Leaning up against the wall close to me, he crossed his legs at his ankles and stuck his hands in his pockets, pasting a teasing smirk on his face.

"What is this now, like your twentieth birthday gala?"

"It sure feels that way," I sighed. "But no, it's only my fourteenth birthday."

He whistled low through his teeth. "Fourteen! Why it seems just yesterday that it was your eleventh birthday!"

"And we were dining on lobster and steak and chasing after Sandy. Yes, I know. I know. Some things never change."

"And some things change immensely. You're not such a little girl anymore."

"_Thank you!"_ I said emphatically. "I don't know why it's so hard for some people to see that!"

"I see it," he said quietly and then quickly cleared his throat. "Are you ready for this year's piano concerto?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I shrugged.

"I know you don't enjoy them," he said. "But I'm sure you'll do fine. You always do very well. Everyone loves listening to you play."

"Thanks, Peter," I said genuinely, though I was pretty sure he was merely being polite.

That evening would be the first time I'd see Edward since I left the Cullen's house, and I wasn't sure how to handle that - though the fact that Peter remained close to me for much of the early evening did make it easier to prepare for Edward.

You see, I reasoned that Peter's attention to me was because this attempt at civility was new to him, and since we'd spent some time together over the past few days, I was the one with whom he felt most at ease. Therefore, I'd allow him to use me as a social shield, and in return I'd use him as a physical shield to hide from Edward - since Peter was so tall and I was so petite.

So as we waited with baited breath for Edward's imminent arrival - or perhaps I should say, as I waited - a few, older friends of my parents began dancing to the piece the band was playing. If I recall correctly, it was Dmitri Shostakovich's String Quartet Number One, a fairly popular classical piece at the time. After a few minutes, Alice and Jasper, and Peter and I joined in more as a way to stave off boredom than anything else because neither Alice nor I were very good dancers at that point, and we were doing an admittedly poor job. So we laughed as Jasper spun Alice around the cleared ballroom, and then Peter did the same to me, and I was getting dizzy and giggling, but I enjoyed the way my dress floated around me as I twirled. Mother looked at us and shook her head, but there was a grin on her face that I couldn't quite place at the time, and though we were making a bit of a spectacle of ourselves, she didn't try to put a stop to our antics.

It was in the middle of Mr. Shostakovich's piece that I abruptly felt Edward's presence.

I tried not to look, but it was as if my eyes had a mind of their own, and there he was: dressed in dark slacks, a white dress shirt, perfectly polished shoes, and his copper hair brushed back. Standing so tall and beautiful it made my chest constrict, he put every other male in their expensive tuxes to shame.

When our eyes met, I thought I saw something…strange in his, but I looked away quickly, and my eyes fell to Jessica at his side. She was wearing a pretty, peach dress, nowhere near as expensive as the dress that had been made for me, but it fit her tight around her generous bosom, showcasing the womanly figure no amount of tailoring could give me.

I continued the rest of the dance stiffly, staring intently at Peter's chest and no longer half as impressed by my billowing skirt.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"Nothing." I shook my head.

He remained silent, and as soon as the piece ended, I walked away without a word or a glance in anyone's direction.

As soon as I was out of the room, I leaned up against a wall and threw back my head, placing a hand over my racing heart to try to slow it down.

I realized then that my plan to hide behind Peter was doomed to failure. No matter where I tried to hide, my heart would always feel Edward's presence, and my eyes would always obey that sensation by seeking him out. It had been that way since the beginning.

How was I supposed to get through this night?

How was I supposed to get through almost two more weeks in Forks?

And then I thought about the following summer. What if…dear God, what if he _proposed_ to her? Edward would be seventeen next summer, old enough to propose…and I…I wouldn't even be quite fifteen yet.

Fearing I may pass out from these thoughts, I went in search of Alice, who'd disappeared from the ballroom at some point. With Sandy at my side, I tried to avoid the servants and maids who were flitting all about and wandered into the kitchen.

"Isabella, what are you doing here, and with that mutt in tow?" Mrs. Cope scolded. "If your mama sees you both in here, especially you in that grand dress, she'll tan both your hides and have my job!"

"If Mother ever sends you away, Sandy and I will be going with you," I grinned, hugging her tightly. She chuckled, shooing Sandy away when she jumped up to lick us, but if the thick, juicy steak bones I always discovered in Sandy's bowls were anything to go by, Mrs. Cope loved Sandy almost as much as I did. "Has anyone seen Alice?"

"She was running around with the Whitlock boy last I saw her," Mrs. Cope said. "Now both of you shoo before-"

A loud crash echoed from one of the other rooms, sounding suspiciously like expensive crystal shattering into a thousand pieces. Someone screamed in horror.

"Goodness!" Mrs. Cope breathed. "Whatever it is, let's clean it up before Mrs. Dwyer sees it!"

She hurried out of the kitchen followed by a handful of other servants. Sandy and I turned around to leave, and as we did, I grabbed a shiny, red apple from the glass bowl on top of the counter. Just as I was about to bite into it, I happened to catch my reflection in the well-polished, glass door.

My hair had been styled into intricate braids and then done up by Mrs. Cope, and though I may not have been as obsessed with fashion as Mother, I could appreciate the beauty of my Italian silk dress and how it hugged my waist before widening gracefully to my knees. I wasn't ugly; the mirror confirmed that daily. Yes, I looked very much like a dark-haired version of Mother, but if only I could fill out a dress the way she did, the way most girls my age were at least beginning to. I was sick of the ironing board I always saw every time I looked at my chest.

I don't recall slipping the unbitten apple inside my dress, but there it suddenly was, and my eyes widened at how it completely transformed my reflection. Even the fact that I was skinny didn't matter. At that moment, my dress looked more like a woman's dress than a little girl's dress. _I_ looked more like a woman.

So I picked up another apple.

They fit nicely inside my dress, held in place by the fitted bodice. I turned this way and that in my makeshift mirror, grinning from ear to ear at the faux décolletage pointing back at me, and I thought…

Maybe if I looked older, if I wasn't always the petite one, the little girl, the one with no chest and no curves. Maybe then he'd-

"Isabella! All the guests have arrived and your Mother is ready for you to play your piece!" Mrs. Cope called out from one of the other rooms.

Perhaps if I'd had time to second-guess myself.

OOOOOOOOOO

The guests were all gathered in the main parlor for the concerto, and as I walked past them to the baby grand, I held my music book tightly to my chest, trying to control my growing apprehension at what I'd just done by focusing on the conversations going on around me.

"He's already taken control of Austria, and now he's threatening to take the Czech land back, yet France and England are doing nothing to stop him!"

"Well, what are they supposed to do? Go to war yet again and over something so insignificant? They're just small pieces of land, for God's sakes."

"Yes, and then it'll be more land, and before you know it-"

"The English are doing enough. No one wants another war."

"At this point, there may be no choice."

"Of course there is. Stay out of it. It's got nothing to do with the English or the French, and it's definitely got nothing to do with us. We've got enough of our own problems."

As I took my seat on the bench, all conversation ceased.

"Isabella, Darling," Mother said in her most refined voice, "you may begin now."

Extremely nauseous by this point, I slowly peeled away the music book, hoping that perhaps no one would notice. Perhaps Peter was wrong, and no one paid attention to me or my yearly Grade B performances.

When a few gasps went up in the audience, I glued my eyes to the open book and began playing Mozart's classic, and strangely enough, as the seconds wore on, my embarrassment began to morph into anger: anger at Mother for making me perform year after year, anger at Papa Phil for not stopping her, anger at Dad, for not fighting harder to keep me, and anger at Mrs. Cope, for leaving me alone in that kitchen.

And most of all, anger at Edward, for not feeling for me what I felt for him.

My playing grew louder. The quiet whispers grew, and pretty soon, I was attacking that piano, Mozart's dynamics be damned. I played _forte_ where I was supposed to play _piano_, _Sforzando_ where there was to be no _Sforzando_, constantly _Crescendo_ without ever softening even while out of my periphery, I could see Mother's ashen face quickly approaching me.

So I did the only thing I could think to do:

I began playing Duke Ellington.

Mother rushed me then.

"What in the world are you doing?" she hissed wildly in my ear, attempting to pull my hands off of the piano, but I fought to keep playing – which resulted in something I'm sure Mr. Ellington never intended. But by that point, I was a girl on a mission – exactly what that mission was to this day eludes me, but it was something grand, I'll tell you.

And so we struggled there until we were both distracted by the sound of something falling and bouncing on the floor, and we both looked down to see one apple rolling away…

and then another.

That was when I stopped playing.

People say 'the silence was deafening.' Well, I'd never really understood the phrase until that moment.

The silence literally pounded in my ears. Sandy strutted over and sunk her canines into one of the apples, growling playfully as she fought with it.

"Get that beast out of here," Mother hissed into the quiet of the room, and one of the servants hastily materialized to lead Sandy out.

Meanwhile, my eyes were glued to the floor, to where the other apple lay round and still.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

That is, until I heard one, lone giggle...

followed by another.

Pretty soon, hushed whispers were going up all over the place. When my eyes finally lifted, almost every face I looked at was full of humor.

When I looked at Papa Phil, he definitely wasn't laughing. Next to him were Carlisle and Esme, neither of whom looked amused either. In fact, Esme looked about ready to run to me until Carlisle held her back, murmuring something in her ear. Next to her was Alice, who looked as if she were ready to cry. She did, in fact, start moving in my direction.

But then I got distracted…

by Edward.

He was leaning against a wall, a few feet away from his family with Jessica next to him.

His expression was somber, and I knew that like the rest of his family, he would never laugh, no matter how angry he may have been at me for interrupting his liaison a couple of weeks ago. He hadn't laughed when I was nine and had jumped into the river chasing Sandy, nor had he laughed when I was eleven and peed on myself from fright. He didn't laugh a couple of weeks ago when I'd been dumb and jumped into the river knowing how rough the current was that day.

He would _never_ laugh at me.

It was a basic fact as far as I was concerned, so when Edward dropped his head and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly, I frowned in confusion. And just as surely as if that were her cue, Jessica started cackling, and then so did my stepsister, Lauren, next to her.

And then everyone left the giggles behind and began laughing.

I jumped off of the bench so quickly that it skidded over the wood floors, but Mother caught my arm just as I was at the threshold of the parlor.

"How could you do something so stupid?!" she hissed as I struggled to get away.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

"You've embarrassed me beyond words!"

Finally wrenching myself free from Mother's grasp, I ran for the stairs, all the while hearing Alice calling behind me.

"Bella!"

I heard…_him_ calling me.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I was mortified, nauseous, heartbroken, and…

and so very sick of Forks.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 13: **_**I'm Gonna Lock My Heart (and Throw Away the Key)**_** (1938) Billie Holiday:**

_**I'm gonna lock my heart and throw away the key**__**  
**__**I'm wise to all those tricks you played on me**__**  
**__**I'm gonna turn my back on love, gonna snub the moon above**__**  
**__**Seal all my windows up with tin so the love bug can't get in**_

*****The next chapter is EPOV – sort of :) *****

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page. :)**


	13. Chapter 12 - Newton's Third Law

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes, who keeps me somewhat sane when necessary. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**This chapter will shift into EPOV...sort of (Read on).**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Summer 1938 (conclusion) – Newton's Third Law**

##########

"Oh, Nana," Isabella breathes, cupping a hand over her mouth. "That must've been just awful! How could he? Did he apologize afterwards?"

"Did he break things off with Jessica?" Olivia asks.

"Did you fling an apple at each of their heads?" Skye wonders.

The three of them make me laugh out loud with how horribly indignant they appear on my behalf. For now at least, Isabella seems to have forgotten her own present-day worries.

"Well, a few things happened afterwards, none that involved my throwing apples. I guess it's like that Physics Law: for every action, there's an equal reaction. In the grand scheme of things…"

My eyes once again see that day long ago.

"In the grand scheme of things, that day probably wouldn't measure on any scale, but in our lives…well, in our lives, that day had far-reaching consequences." I cock my head sideways. "Sometimes I wonder…if I hadn't put those apples down my dress…"

"Nana?" Isabella asks. She's stroking my jean-clad leg. It tingles with warmth through the material, as if she's been stroking for some time.

"Have I been gone for a while again? I'm sorry, Child."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine," I assure her. "I've just been…thinking. Well, let me tell you about some things I found out later. Much later…."

##########

Apparently, when Edward saw me run out of that room and head for the staircase, he tried to follow, but Jessica grabbed his arm.

"Get off," he hissed, barely sparing her a backwards glance.

"It was just too funny!" she giggled in defense.

At this pronouncement, he did spare her one second. "You and I are done."

Without wasting another second, he shook off the hand holding him and resumed his chase. Alice, Jasper, Masen and Rose followed. When they reached the grand staircase, Mother was already there. She spun around and scowled upon seeing them.

"No one is going up there," she proclaimed, then looking directly at Edward, "especially not you."

"Is she okay?" Peter asked. He'd come up behind them as well.

"Peter, please make sure that no one goes upstairs. I've got to get back and explain to everyone that Isabella recently suffered a concussion." And with that, she rushed past them to return to her hostess duties.

Having no intention of honoring her wishes, Alice and Edward moved towards the steps, but Peter quickly blocked their way.

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Dwyer said no one goes up there."

"Peter, please!" Alice pleaded. "I've got to see Bella!"

"Let us through, Peter," Edward said a lot more steadily than he felt.

Peter's eyes moved to Edward. "I don't think so, Edward, not when it's you and your girl's fault that she's so upset."

The accusation was like a fist slamming straight into Edward's gut, tightening around his insides. But he wouldn't let Peter see that.

"Peter, get out of my way."

Peter cocked his head sideways. "Do you think we're still kids, Edward? Do I still look like that thirteen-year-old weak boy to you? I said you're not going up."

At this, Edward's hands instinctively balled into fists, but before he could react, Masen curled a hand around his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Edward, let's go. We'll talk to Bella tomorrow."

Still, Edward didn't budge. His nostrils flared as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Peter.

He knew that Peter was the one Renee meant for Bella; of course he knew. Mrs. Dwyer had made it pretty clear at the Independence Day Barbecue that first summer Bella arrived in Forks. His mind had understood it even then; even after Peter had made that stupid comment that earned him a fist to the mouth.

But later that summer, while he and his brother, Masen, had been fishing, he'd sought further clarification:

"_See, the way it works is that the Vandernecks got the blue blood but not so much of the money. The Dwyer's have the money but not the blue blood. So they tie it all together nicely with Isabella and Peter," Masen explained._

"_But Isabella's not even ten yet!"_

"_Not now, you dope," Masen had rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "when they're older. When Isabella's like, seventeen or eighteen, they'll have one of those parties up in New York, all fancy-like in a fancy ballroom and announce their fancy engagement, and all the rich, fancy folk will attend and drink fancy bottles of wine and celebrate."_

"_But what if that's not what she wants?"_

"_Don't matter what she wants," Masen shrugged. "Rich folk marry rich folk. Or sometimes, like Isabella's mama, a poor woman finds herself a rich tycoon to marry. But a rich girl never ends up with a poor boy." Masen had held Edward's gaze, but Edward had quickly looked away, glaring at the sparkling river._

"_Why don't they just marry off Lauren to Peter?" he'd asked._

"_Cuz Isabella's the one who's gonna grow up to be the beauty, not Lauren," Masen had chuckled. "It's pretty obvious."_

_At that comment, Edward felt anger welling up inside, though he had no idea why._

"_Why are you asking so many questions about little Isabella? You sweet on her or something?"_

"_No!" Edward had snapped. "Just wonderin'. 'Sides, by the time she's seventeen, I'll be long gone, flying my fighter planes. I won't care who she marries cuz I ain't marrying no one."_

_For a few seconds, Masen had simply stared at his little brother._

"_What did he say to you back at the barbecue? Why'd you punch him?"_

"_Don't matter," Edward had responded, unwilling to repeat the disgusting remark fancy, rich boy, Peter Vanderneck had made. He wished he would've knocked out one of his fancy teeth - or two. "He won't be saying it again."_

_Masen held his gaze for one long moment before turning his eyes back to his line and whistling a happy tune._

And as the years went by, Edward's mind could see the truth, even the logic in what Masen had told him.

Yes, his mind could see it, but damn it, why the hell hadn't the rest of him ever been able to just accept it?

And right now, he was ready to slam a fist into Peter's mouth once again. Truth be told, he'd spent the past four years aching to slam a fist into his mouth again, and never more so than tonight, when he'd seen him out on the dance floor with Bella. In his mind, Edward had clearly pictured that fancy engagement that'd be coming in a few, short years.

"Edward, let's go. We'll come find Bella tomorrow when she's calmed down a bit."

"Listen to your brother, Young Man," Philip said, appearing behind them. "He's a wise individual."

Edward turned around, and now his pop was approaching them as well. Philip stepped back, and Carlisle rested a hand over Edward's other shoulder so that now he was effectively being held back by both his father and brother, and Edward knew he wouldn't be getting the chance to knock out Peter's fancy teeth tonight.

"Son, I think we should let Bella have some time to herself. Let's go."

A smug smirk lifted up the corners of Peter's mouth, and though Edward was sorely tempted to knock it off with his fist, he gritted his teeth and retreated because as much as Peter was no longer that thirteen-year-old weak boy, Edward wasn't that boy who solved everything with his fists anymore either.

"Mr. Dwyer, may I please go see Bella?" Alice implored.

"I think it might be better if Isabella is left alone for the time being. I doubt she'll want to see anyone at the moment."

"She'll want to see me," Alice assured him.

"I'd prefer to give her some time to herself. It can't be easy to see a room full of people who are supposed to be your _friends_ laugh at you."

Philip shifted his eyes towards Edward, and Edward, unable and unwilling to defend himself, dropped his head, shutting his eyes tightly against the wave of guilt threatening to engulf him.

He hadn't meant to react the way he did. It was the entire situation. The entire summer. The impossible, ridiculous situation.

But she'd never understand that.

"I'm sure it's not," Carlisle agreed, his voice suddenly laced with barely suppressed ire. "But Bella should've never been up there on display that way to begin with! My God, Philip, she's a fourteen-year-old child, not a trophy to be put on display for your friends' yearly amusement! You want something to display?" he hissed.

"Carlisle." Esme had joined them and now placed what was supposed to be a calming hand on Carlisle's arm.

"You want something to display? That's what your wife is for," he continued, "because she _is_ a grown woman, and _she_ seems to enjoy it!"

"Carlisle," Esme repeated, but Carlisle was done, and both men simply stood there, sizing one another up as if there was so much more they both wanted to release.

"You're a good father, Carlisle, and a good husband," Philip finally said. "I can…appreciate that, but Isabella is _my_ responsibility, not yours."

"Then damn it, act like it!" Carlisle growled. "Being a father is about more than enrolling them in fancy schools and opening your wallet to-"

"Carlisle!" Esme said.

"Good night, Cullen family," Philip said. "As always, it was a pleasure. Felix will be happy to escort you home if you need a ride." And with that, he turned around.

"We have our own car, thank you!" Carlisle retorted to Philip's retreating form, and taking Esme's hand, he led her and their three children off of Dwyer property.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice quietly cried all the way home. By the time Edward's father parked the car in front of their house, Edward was ready to choke her. Not because he blamed her for crying, but because every tear that rolled down her cheek was like a spear into his chest; a reminder of what he'd just done to Bella.

The pain he'd just caused his sweet, little girl.

The…betrayal.

She'd been so good to them, _for_ them since that very first summer she'd appeared like a wet fairy in that water. Even now, thinking of that day, that moment when he'd seen her submerged in the river made his blood run cold. To think that he could've been too late. If he hadn't disobeyed his parents and gone to the river, if he hadn't heard her screams…

Then after he'd gotten her out, she'd looked up at him with those big, golden eyes and…

And that had been it for him. All he'd ever wanted to do since that moment was protect her, keep her from all hurt and harm.

Instead, all he'd done this summer was make her ache; he knew it. But she was so headstrong, and as much as he admired that about her, she'd never understand that what she wanted was impossible, that it would just bring her more pain in the long run. He'd wanted to spare her that, even at the cost of his own pain. Even if it meant having to watch her every damn day and…and know that he had to stay away…

And this summer…this summer he couldn't have crushed her more if he'd actually set out to do so.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward sat heavily over the porch steps, cradling his head in his hands and trying to understand where exactly he'd gone wrong. It was nerves that brought about that reaction back in the parlor a few hours ago, nerves and exhaustion and…and that's what she'd never understand because if he explained that to her, he'd have to explain so much more.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting out there in the dark when the porch door opened behind him. With a heavy sigh, his father took a seat at his side.

"Edward, you're my son, and despite some rough spots when you were younger, you've always made me proud, but this evening…"

Edward picked up his head wearily, not quite meeting his father's gaze.

"Last summer, she told me she wanted me to be her first kiss."

The declaration was followed by a long moment of silence.

"She's so young, Pop."

"She is young; yes, she is," Carlisle agreed.

"I've got plans, Pop. You know I've always had these plans, and she doesn't understand what that means! How that would…and then there's her family…and everything that entails."

"Sounds like you've been giving it some thought."

"And there's the guys in school."

"What about the boys in school?"

Edward scowled. "They started teasing me cuz I'd never had a girl, never _kissed_ a girl. They saw how Jessica and the other girls followed me around, and when I ignored them all, well…they started whispering in the locker room, saying maybe I didn't like girls at all. Saying maybe they should keep a distance from me 'case I try to kiss _them_," he recalled, nostrils flaring. "So I started courting Jessica because…well, she was okay, I suppose, and I had to make Bella understand…" Edward gripped the hair on top of his head, letting out a growl of frustration. "I don't know, Pop. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm doing."

"Edward," Carlisle breathed, staring down at his steepled hands. "Edward, young 'uns can be stupid, especially when they're in a group - starts a mob mentality. But Son, the only way to stop them is to ignore them."

"The way everyone's ignoring Hitler? You think that's going to stop him?"

"We're not talking about world politics here, Edward, are we?"

"No, Sir."

"Edward, you're closer to being a man than you are to being a child, so I'm going to speak plainly to you. Now, I didn't say anything when you began courting the Stanley girl after never having shown any previous interest in her. You're a young man now, and I assume you see things…you see certain young women in a different light than was the case just last year or the year before. Who you court is something you decide, not me. Nevertheless, there are a couple of points I must make here. The first: you _cannot _court a young lady simply because you believe her to be "okay" or to make a point. You're cheating both yourself and the young woman involved of the beauty of a real courtship. No young man nor woman wants to feel that they're less than the first and only choice. It was a very cowardly thing, Son."

Edward dropped his head. "I know, Pop. It was wrong and cowardly; I know. But it's over now."

"I'm glad you recognize your error, and while it's something I'd like to discuss further, for now, let's get to my second point." Carlisle sighed. "I don't like the idea of Bella kissing anyone just yet, not even my own son. Therefore, I must say that I'm glad you apparently chose not to kiss her."

Edward nodded, unsure if he felt relieved or disappointed by this point.

"However, Young Man, from what you've just told me, I do believe that you've chosen to ignore the real issue all summer, and the real issue isn't what those ignorant boys were saying. The real issue is what you may or may not be feeling."

Carlisle waited, but Edward was silent. Not because he didn't want to talk to his pop, but because he was so bewildered and had no idea how to put it all into words.

"You've been ignoring Bella all summer."

Edward's eyes quickly shot to his pop's eyes.

"Yes, your mother and I did notice," Carlisle confirmed. "As I said, you're not a boy anymore, and as much as your behavior towards her may have disturbed your mother and me, we wanted you to learn to resolve your own issues. But Edward, regardless of what she may have asked of you last summer and regardless of how you feel about it, I thought you regarded her as at least your friend."

"Of course I do!" Edward cried indignantly.

"Are you sure? Because you haven't been acting like it. And tonight…"

"Aw, Pop," Edward moaned, burying his head in his hands once again. "Tonight, that wasn't…I never meant to hurt her that way." He picked up his head. "I have to speak with her, to try to explain and apologize."

He stood then and quickly took the steps down.

"Philip won't let you in, Son, much less Bella's mother."

Edward paused, shutting his eyes tightly against the growing guilt and impatience.

"Best to wait 'til morning and let cooler heads prevail. Right now, they won't let you in."

His father was right; he knew it. No matter how much he needed to see Bella tonight, neither one of her parents would allow it. With no other choice and with footsteps weighted down by remorse and self-reproach, Edward turned around and walked into his house.

##########

"Good for him!" Olivia snaps. "I'm glad he felt like crap!"

"Olivia, you're forgetting yourself again," Isabella warns.

"Sorry," Olivia grumbles, though it's obvious she's not.

"Now, now." I chuckle at the indignation on my behalf. "Hurting the person who hurt you isn't always as satisfying as it may sound, though I certainly understand the impulse to allow hurt and humiliation to transform into anger. It's that impulse that guided so much of what happened worldwide during those years."

With a deep sigh, I gaze up at the broad, green bristles growing on the magnificent tree next to us, wondering how long they've been there…how much they've seen…

"Yet…if you stop and think…if you give yourself time…yet sometimes you're not given time to stop and think, and then when the years pass, and you look back at the situation…you wonder…if you'd done things differently…"

Blinking a few times, I turn away from the tree and look at my family.

They're all gaping at me, and again I wonder how long I've been off on my tangent.

"Nana," Skye says softly, "what did _you_ do?"

"Well…we'll get to me soon enough. Let's first finish with the copper-haired young man and what he was going through just then."

##########

Edward lay awake most of the night, replaying the scene at Bella's house over and over again, cringing every time he pictured the look on Bella's face when those apples fell out of her dress, rubbing his chest to try to quell the ache every time he envisioned the hurt in her golden eyes.

Jesus, what was she thinking? And why did she start playing Duke Ellington? Why would she-

But that wasn't even the matter at hand.

He'd messed up all summer. Jessica…she'd been…such a mistake. She'd always wanted him; he knew that. And at the time, it had seemed like the simplest solution. She was simple to be with; there were no expectations, no complications…and in the process, he'd be able to make Bella understand how impossible she and he were…

When deep, burgundy bands of light streaked through the black and grey sky, Edward finally fell into a fitful sleep where he dreamed of all his summers with Bella:

He dreamed of the first time he saw her when she was a tiny, little nine-year-old who didn't even know that dogs could swim, of the time she'd flung herself into his arms and called him her "hero" while soundly kissing his cheek in gratitude for his teaching Sandy to sit. In his dream, he could still feel the warmth that radiated off of her, the strange thrill that had run through him at the feel of her tiny, little self in his arms.

He dreamed of the day he'd found her crying in the woods and he'd imagined her to be the prettiest yet saddest woodland princess who'd ever existed.

He dreamed of the huge tears that speared his chest the summer he scared her so badly she'd peed herself while camping.

He dreamed of how sweet and honest and open she looked when last summer, she told him she wanted him to be her first kiss. He dreamed of how wildly his heart had beaten at her declaration, of how hard it'd been not to cradle her pretty little face right then and there.

He dreamed of how soft her skin had felt that day a few weeks ago when she'd fallen asleep under the evergreen with her long, dark hair splayed out over the grass...with her pink lips puckered in slumber…

Then he dreamed of the look of horror on her face when she first saw him with Jessica. He dreamed of the absolute terror he'd felt when she'd jumped into the river a couple of weeks ago. He dreamed of his lips on hers...of breathing into her mouth...

And finally…he dreamed of Bella's pretty face twisted in pain and humiliation a few hours ago when his mouth turned up into that smirk he couldn't even fathom himself.

His heavy conscience conjured up a muffled voice full of tears…Sandy barking…car doors opening and closing…

When his eyes fluttered open, the angle in which the muted sun poured in through the window indicated that his torturous, early morning thoughts had caused him to oversleep. He'd have to be at the Stanley's store soon to begin his day – that is, if he still had a job there.

But that was the least of his worries.

First, he had to go to Bella and apologize, try to offer her some sort of explanation for how stupid he'd acted all summer.

But what could he say without saying too much?

He quickly jumped out of bed and cleaned up. He'd have to figure it out on the way over. Bypassing the kitchen because he couldn't face his mother or Alice quite yet, he took the long way around to his father's empty office. Business had been slow for...a while. Carlisle sat at his desk completing some sort of paperwork when Edward popped his head in.

"Pop, can Alice do my chores this morning? I know she's got her own, and I'll make it up to her tonight, but I got up late, and I really want to go see Bella and apologize before I head to the mercantile."

Carlisle simply stared at him, looking exhausted himself. Scrubbing a hand down his face, Edward's father motioned to the chair across from his desk.

"Edward, let's have a talk."

"Can this wait?"

"No, I'm afraid it can't."

Edward struggled against a disrespectful display of impatience. "Pop, I know I've handled things badly. Please just let me ask Alice to do my chores so I can go speak with Bella, and I'll take care of everything else afterwards. You can punish me all you want. I'll clean cages for the rest of the summer. I'll do my chores and Alice and Masen's as well if you deem it so."

"Edward…" he sighed. "Son, I'm not punishing you. Just take a seat."

There was an edge to Carlisle's voice, yet it wasn't angry; more like disappointed, even…apologetic.

"Yes, Sir." Reluctantly, Edward took a seat, but his leg bounced up and down in time with his anxiousness.

Carlisle filled his lungs and then let out the air slowly. "Edward, Bella left this morning."

"What do you mean? She was here this morning?"

Yet even as he said it, he realized that he'd known she'd been there. He'd heard her; he'd…felt her.

"What I mean is Bella is on her way to Seattle to board the train back to her father in Chicago."

Edward stared at his father, deep, horizontal lines of confusion marring his forehead. "That can't be right. She still has over a week to go before she's due to leave."

Carlisle stood and walked around the desk to Edward. "She's gone, Son."

The tears he'd heard…the hushed voices…the barking...

"Philip brought her quite early so that she could say her goodbyes. She asked your sister to take care of Sandy."

Edward stood so quickly that his chair scraped noisily against the floor.

"Why didn't anyone come get me?" he yelled. "Why didn't anyone wake me?"

"Edward…" With another deep sigh, his father rested a hand on his shoulder. "She didn't want us to wake you."

"What?"

"She was in a rush and upset and…adamant."

Carlisle patted his son's shoulder in a gesture meant to provide comfort, but Edward pulled away, staring at his father in disbelief.

"Perhaps Phil was right," his father said. "Perhaps it's best to give Bella time. I would venture to say it's been a difficult summer for her."

"Did she want to leave or is she being sent away?"

"From what Philip informed me…it was a mutual decision reached by Bella and her mother."

Edward dropped his head, shaking it back and forth. "Jesus Christ."

"She'll be back next summer, Son."

"Next summer?" Edward snorted, not caring at all about how his voice broke.

"She _is_ young, Edward. The child is barely fourteen. She deserves time. She deserves honesty wherever she can get it. Perhaps… - Carlisle held his son's gaze meaningfully – "perhaps this will give you both a chance to think about what sort of friendship you want with one another going into the future. A true relationship, of any kind, requires honesty. You have ten months now to figure what it is you want to say to her when you next see her, ten months to be honest with yourself so that by next summer, you can be honest with her, whatever that entails."

Edward swallowed thickly, his throat so tight it was painful. He fisted and unfisted his hands, wanting to punch something, anything. He wanted to yell and howl at the top of his lungs.

Ten months.

Bella had left feeling hurt and humiliated - hurt and humiliation that _he'd_ caused with his every action this summer.

And now, he'd have to wait almost an entire year to speak to her.

To tell her the truth.

##########

Olivia stands and paces in front of me, shaking out her hands, fisting and unfisting them as if trying to release some sort of pent up energy.

The action is achingly familiar.

"Oh hell no," she finally says. "Nana, I know you're not trying to tell us that you waited an entire _year_ to clear up that mess!"

"Not-"

"I think I would've pulled out my hair!" She reaches up for her long, blond hair and fists it tightly. "Nowadays, he could've just texted you or face-timed you! He could've jumped in his car and followed you! Google-mapped a shorter route to the train station and beat you there! Come on, Nana, don't keep us in suspense! What happened next?"

"Well," I begin, but Isabella interrupts.

"Hold on, Nana," she frowns. "How is it that you know exactly what the copper-haired young man was thinking and feeling while you weren't around? Did he tell you afterwards?"

I shake my head. "Not exactly."

"Then…"

"I read it years later…in his journal."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 14: Don't Be That Way (1938) by Bing Crosby:**

_**Sweetheart, tomorrow is another day,**__**  
**__**Don't break my heart,**__**  
**__**Oh honey, please don't be that way.**_

*****A quick message on Angst and HEAs:*****

**If neither one of these topics interests you, you can just skip this. Otherwise:**

**Angst – This is an angsty story. Fanfiction only allows a writer to pick 2 genres, and I picked Romance and Hurt/Comfort because I believe the latter encompasses angst as well. If I could've picked 3 genres, angst would've definitely been one of them.**

**HEAs – Will the story have an HEA? Will it? Will it? ;) If you want my view on HEAs, please take a look at my profile. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	14. Chapter 13 - Making Plans

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I'm having such a great time reading all your comments and ideas. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**This will once again shift into Edward's POV - sort of. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Summer 1939 – Making Plans**

##########

There's a light touch - a gentle grip on my shoulder accompanied by a quiet voice.

"Mama?"

The voice sounds far away; it competes with other voices…other images...

"Nana?"

I blink a few times because the faces before me don't match the place where my mind has taken me. The voices murmur quietly, but trapped between here and there, I have a hard time making out the words.

"Mama? Mama, come back. Come back, Mama."

This voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and suddenly, I'm no longer in the back of Papa Phil's car, being whisked away from Forks towards the Seattle train station.

"Alice?"

"No, Mama," the girl smiles gently and takes my hand. "It's me: Leah. Your daughter."

I blink again. "Leah?"

"Yes. Where were you, Mama?"

"I was…in 1938."

Leah sighs.

"Nana was telling us the most wonderful stories about when she was a girl," Skye (Olivia) whispers.

"Yeah," Olivia (Skye) agrees. "About a bunch of friends she made in the summers – though a couple of them were real bitches-"

"Olivia," Isabella reprimands.

"Sorry," Olivia says, "I meant _witches_. And then Nana fell in love, but _he_ acted like a real ass…_anine_ young man one summer," she corrects herself with a smirk. "And then he regretted how he treated her, but she left, and it was the olden times, so he couldn't get to her, and now we're waiting to hear what happened the following summer."

Leah shakes her head. "I'm glad to see you're enjoying your time with Nana Bella, but she really needs to rest." When she takes both my hands and guides me up to my feet, the girls groan with disapproval.

Isabella gets off of the tire swing and comes to help her mother. "Your grandmother is right, Girls. Nana needs to have a rest. It's going to be a busy day for her and-"

"I don't need a rest," I disagree, pulling my hands out of Leah's grip.

Leah raises a brow. "Mama, I asked you earlier to take a nap. Instead, I find you out here. Now you've been up since very early this morning and must be exhausted."

"I'm not tired at all." I walk to the now vacated swing and take a seat, slowly swaying it backwards and forwards.

"Mama, now you be careful there! You haven't slept, and you can lose your balance!"

"Nonsense! My balance is just fine." I push myself forward in the swing just a little bit harder, reveling in the feel of the breeze against my cheeks when I sway back. It's been…a while since I've felt it. It makes me smile.

"Mama!" Leah watches me, biting her lip. "Mama, you need to rest, and I've got to finish getting everything ready. Everyone will be here soon."

"People are coming? Why?"

"Mama, it's your birthday."

I hold her gaze. "Oh yes, it is. I was telling the girls my story."

"Mama-"

"Is your father up yet?"

"No, Mama." She sighs. "Not yet."

"Mom," Isabella reaches out and rests a hand on her mother's arm, "I really think it'd be good to let Nana finish her story. She's telling it perfectly, Mom; from beginning to end." She holds her mother's gaze, and I get the feeling they're communicating something silently.

Isabella finally turns and smiles at me, offering me a wink. Walking behind the swing, she begins pushing very carefully. "I've got it, Nana. Now if you're sure not tired, why don't you continue?"

"I'm perfectly sure," I grin, and then with a wave of my hand, I add, "Go on, Leah, take a seat with your granddaughters and let me finish."

So when Olivia and Skye quickly resume their seats over the grass, Leah hesitantly joins them.

"Now can someone remind me where we were?"

"The summer of 1938 ended badly. I assume we'll start with the summer of 1939, with the copper-haired young man figuring out once and for all what the hell he wants from life," Skye volunteers helpfully.

"Ah yes, 1939."

I close my eyes, allowing the memories to once more flood my mind…

But…

But the images that now fill it are full of feverish mobs hypnotized by the rhetoric of an insane man, images of tanks moving into unwarned and unprepared territories, images of innocent, unsuspecting men, women and children being guided into empty rail cars - like cattle to the slaughterhouse.

My eyes pop open.

"1939..."

##########

By early 1939, the German dictator and his party had already annexed Austria and Czechoslovakia, and with his appetite for power only growing, he had now set his sights on Poland. Britain and France, finally opening their eyes to the threat this man represented, promised to come to Poland's aid should the German dictator not back down in the face of the ultimatum he'd been given.

At the time, very few suspected that it was the twilight of peace not just for Europe, but for an entire planet…for an entire generation. Soon, all our personal conflicts would take a back seat to the greatest conflict the world had ever known...

OOOOOOOOOO

Yet in the small town of Forks, Washington, the only thing on the horizon was the coming end of another school year. Edward was taking care of his afternoon chores, which would've been finished already except he kept stopping to write in his journal and look out at the field, his gaze longingly following the tree line beyond which the river flowed, the river where he, his brother, sister and their friends spent most of their summers since he was a young kid.

Now almost seventeen, things had changed over the past couple of summers. He'd worked at the Stanley Mercantile last summer, and despite his sudden and not-quite-so-friendly break-up with Jessica, Mrs. Stanley had surprisingly kept him on because he was strong and very good with figuring. But with Jessica's constant sideways comments and "accidentally" bumping into him, Edward decided it would be best to look for something else. Being strong boys, he and Jasper had been lucky enough to find themselves summer jobs working at the local saw mill. They'd all be starting in a couple of weeks, when school would be over, and though it would greatly cut down on any recreation time, none of them were children anymore. Edward and Jasper needed to bring in money to help their families, and Masen…

Masen was graduating this year and had proposed to his childhood sweetheart, Rosalie. He'd be working at the mill full time for the next year, and then he'd take what money he'd saved, what money Carlisle could give him, and the money Edward was saving and marry Rosalie next summer before going to the University of Washington come the following fall. In the meantime, Rosalie, who despite her wishes would not be able to attend college, would live with Masen's parents until Masen finished school and built them a house on Cullen property.

No, it wasn't the best of plans, but in 1939, it was the best they could conjure.

As for Edward, almost every penny he'd earn over the summer as well as what he hoped to earn working after school next school year, his senior year, would be saved for Masen. After all, Masen was the one who'd be getting a wife and a higher education. Edward would be going to the air corps next summer and wouldn't need any of that money.

War was coming. He heard the news on the radio. He saw the news reels at the movie house. War was coming to Europe, and if it eventually came here, Edward wanted to be at the frontlines of his country's defense.

Defending and protecting his country had been his plan since he'd been a young boy, and there was no reason to change it.

Except…

No. No, there was no reason to change it.

Yet as he absently raked hay, a sweet laughter filled his memory.

And as had happened so many times over the past year, Edward stopped and stared off into the horizon, towards the evergreen tree where he and the prettiest girl he'd ever known had stood one night a few summers ago when they'd both still been children, and he'd known that no matter what, he'd always protect that pretty girl with the golden eyes and the long, dark hair. Except it had been so easy back then to protect her because they were just kids, and she hadn't yet asked him for something he couldn't give. For years, he'd sworn he was the only one who felt that all-consuming pull; he hadn't known that she felt it too and that one day he'd have to protect her from himself.

And now…

Now all he'd done this year was think of her: her pretty face, her soft, silky hair, the feel of his fingers caressing her cheek last summer when he'd found her asleep under the evergreen. He'd somehow worked up the nerve to ghost his fingers around her smooth, perfect face, and when she'd woken, he'd quickly dropped his hand.

More than one night, as he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, the scene under the evergreen would change, and she'd wake, but this time he wouldn't drop his hand. Instead, he'd cup her cheek, and Bella would sit up, gazing at him through those hypnotizing golden eyes of hers before moving in closer and putting her soft lips on his.

Those dreams left him breathless and gasping unlike anything ever had. Even the reality of truly kissing Jessica paled to those dreams. Just thinking about those dreams…

"Edward!"

Edward blinked, snapping himself out of his daydreams.

"Edward!" his mama repeated from the porch of the house. "Time to come in for supper!"

"I'll be right there, Mama!" he hollered back, yet his mind wandered once more...

She'd always been so young, yes, but there was a maturity to her, and God help him, he wouldn't push too far. Maybe she'd let him hold her hand the way he did that night they'd all camped out under the stars…a couple of summers before it all went to hell. He wouldn't ask her for more than that or for anything close to what he'd almost done with Jessica that night on the porch.

And then he cringed when he remembered being caught by Bella.

But…it would all be different this summer.

Older now, and with almost a year to think of the right words, he could explain things better. In less than a month, Bella would be back in Forks, and then he could truly apologize for everything that had happened the summer before, he could explain to her why he'd done the things he'd done, and then maybe…just maybe…

But then he'd remember that this coming school year would be his senior year, and the following year he'd be eighteen and off to the air corps…it had been his plan, his dream since he'd been a young kid, since before Bella had come into his life.

With a deep sigh, Edward resumed his raking.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day as he walked home from school, the same thoughts plagued him, just as they had the entire year.

Edward knew what giving in would mean when it came to Bella. If he ever…kissed her, it would change everything, all his plans - plans he'd had since he was old enough to know what honor and patriotism and defending what was yours meant.

If he kissed her…he'd want to stay - to protect her and only her.

Europe was headed for war; anyone could see that now. Even those idiots who had stuck their heads in the sand could see what the British and their allies gearing up for promised invasions by the Germans and their allies would lead to. There was no stopping it. And while so many Americans were still trying to hide from what it all meant, the writing was on the damn wall as far as Edward was concerned: war would eventually come here too. It was inevitable.

Edward just hoped it wouldn't begin until he was of age next year.

But then…

What about Bella?

He groaned out loud, stomping his long legs harder against the muddy earth and raking a frustrated hand through his hair. With the weather warming up, the days were now passing quickly; she'd be here soon, and he needed to find an answer…

"Please, Mama and Pop!"

Edward was pulled out of his confusing thoughts by the sound of his sister, apparently moaning and pestering his parents for something. Just a few feet from his house, he looked up and saw Masen and Rose sitting on the porch steps.

"Please!" he heard Alice plead again. "I'll do anything!"

"What's going on?" Edward asked his brother, and then watched as Masen and Rose shared a look.

"Mama and Pop received a letter from Bella today."

Edward's eyes grew wide, though mail from Bella was nothing out of the ordinary. She wrote to Alice, Rose and Esme all the time. Last summer, after she'd left so abruptly, he'd written a letter to her in his journal, but then after rereading it, he'd decided not to mail it. He'd been such a coward all summer, and apologizing in a letter instead of face to face would only be another act of cowardice.

So he'd waited almost ten, long months now.

"What'd she say? How's she doing?"

"She's doing just fine," Masen assured him. "It's just…" his brother drew in a deep breath, "Bella says she's not coming to Forks this summer."

At first, Edward was sure he'd misunderstood.

Bella had been coming to Forks for the summer every single year for the past six years now. It was just how it was, unquestionable at this point. The summer ushered in Bella: a beautiful, delicate warm-weather fairy, a woodland nymph too precious to exist in any other climate. But as Masen continued explaining, it was with a nauseous roll of his stomach that Edward realized he'd understood perfectly.

"She says her mother and both her fathers have agreed to allow her to spend the summer in Chicago."

Edward's chest heaved, his lungs filling with angry breaths.

"You mean Renee Dwyer is still embarrassed about what happened last year and would rather forego seeing her daughter this summer than deal with that."

Masen shrugged. "Either way, she's not coming."

Edward's nostrils flared. He swallowed thickly, trying to clamp down on the ache beginning to radiate in his chest.

"That's not all," Masen continued. "Her pop has written to Mama and Pop to see if they'll let Alice go to Chicago for the summer instead."

"What?"

"Yep. They're on the phone with Bella's pop right now, and Alice is putting on quite a show, as you can hear," he chuckled.

Bewildered, Edward stood there frozen for a few minutes, listening to Alice's continued begging and pleading. He couldn't even remember walking into the house until he was standing in the kitchen, watching his father with the black mouthpiece to his mouth and the earpiece between him and his wife.

Alice sat impatiently at the table, vibrating in her chair. "Please, Mama and Pop!" she repeated while Esme quietly shushed her.

"Well, my wife and I thank you for the offer," Edward's pop said into the mouthpiece, "but we would pay for Alice's fare as you're being kind enough to host her."

Edward stood transfixed, wondering what was being said on the other line.

"Yes, yes," Carlisle said, with a note of apprehension in his voice. "Philip has offered her the use of a private railcar, but I don't know if I feel comfortable with that."

"Carlisle, she'll be a sixteen-year-old girl traveling by herself," Esme said quietly. "I would feel much more easy."

Carlisle shut his eyes for a second, blowing out through his nose. "All right, that's something my wife and I will discuss, but I want to thank you for your hospitality. Bella is a wonderful child, and my wife and I see the influence you've had in that, Mr. Swan. If we didn't feel confident that you would keep an eye on both girls, we wouldn't even consider it."

Again, Bella's father spoke, and Edward could only use conjecture to figure out the other side of the conversation.

"Of course. We'll definitely miss seeing her, but as parents, we understand your joy in having her with you for an entire summer."

And then after one more long silence, Edward's father said, "Please give her our love when you do see her. She's very special to my wife and me, as well as to our children. Yes, we'll definitely speak again in a few days. Thanks so much, Mr. Swan. Charlie then, and please call me Carlisle. All right, thank you again."

After he hung up, Edward simply stared at the scene before him with a sort of numb incredulity. Esme and Carlisle looked at Alice and gave her a slight nod, which caused Alice to scream and jump up from her chair, wrapping her arms around both her parents.

"Now, now, Alice," Esme said. "You'll have to behave yourself, and I _will_ be speaking to Mr. Swan about chores and such."

"Anything you say, Mama!" Alice said excitedly.

"She'll agree to just about anything right now!" Masen snorted behind Edward.

"I'll miss you two girls this summer," Rose added with a touch of sadness in her tone.

And then they all started talking and making plans while Edward just stood and watched, unable to understand how none of them could see what was happening.

"Sending her is a mistake."

Everyone stopped. Carlisle disentangled himself from his wife and daughter's embrace.

"Why do you say that, Son?"

Edward looked at all of them looking at him, and he was sure that they could see right through him, see things he didn't even completely understand himself.

"She's not old enough to go away."

"What do you mean I'm not old enough to go away?" Alice said quickly. "I'm sixteen years old, and before I marry and settle down, I'd like to see some of the world out there! God's sake, there are girls already married at my age!"

Her indignation simply angered him.

"You looking for a husband?" he asked his younger sister. Then he looked at their father. "You see? She's looking for a husband. You really want her out of your sight right now?"

"I'm not looking for a husband!" Alice yelled, stomping a foot. "If I was, I've got Jasper right here! I just want to see my best friend!"

Edward glared at her, waving a hand wildly. "If I was Pop, I wouldn't send you! Young girl off alone like that!"

"Edward!" Alice stomped again.

"Edward, your father and I are the parents here," Esme said. "Now we thank you for your brotherly advice, but we've spoken to Charles Swan, and we're confident that he'll look after the girls just fine. From all accounts, he's a man of upstanding character, and what's more, we trust that we've raised your sister to behave herself like a proper, young lady, both on the way over and while there."

"I will!" Alice insisted, shooting daggers at Edward. "Edward is just crusty because he wanted to be the first one to leave Forks and get out and see the world!"

She was completely wrong, but the fact that she'd try to embarrass him like that made his blood boil.

In truth, anything Alice would've said at that moment would've made his blood boil.

"It doesn't matter where you go, Alice, because when I get out of here, it'll be permanently, but you'll just have a taste of freedom before you end up married and knocked up and-"

"Edward, enough!" Carlisle commanded.

Edward knew he'd gone too far. He'd known it from the moment he'd opened his mouth.

Bella wasn't coming back this summer.

She wasn't coming back.

He'd spent all year waiting for her return…and she wasn't coming back.

OOOOOOOOOO

For a long time, he sat on the porch steps while Sandy licked his cheeks and he watched the muted sun change positions, the heavy clouds growing graver and darker.

"Well, Girl, looks like we're both out of luck this summer," he muttered bitterly.

Sandy whimpered and kept right on licking.

He tried to write in his journal, but even that failed to quell the turmoil in his mind. Instead, he dropped his head, nostrils flaring with the effort not to howl at the top of his lungs. Sandy must've sensed his need though, because she began howling for him.

After a while, he heard the storm door open and quiet footsteps behind him before his mother took a seat at his side, petting Sandy to calm her.

"You'll have to apologize to your sister."

"I know."

"It's a great opportunity for her, Edward. Masen has no desire to ever leave this town except for college, and that's just fine. And you…you've got your dreams of flying…but Edward, Alice may never get another chance to see another part of the country. From all accounts, even from Phillip Dwyer, Charles Swan is an upstanding man, and when your father and I spoke to him, he promised he wouldn't allow the girls to remain idle all summer. He assures us that they'll be helping around the house, helping neighbors, volunteering…"

Edward nodded emptily.

"Sweetheart…" Esme sighed, "I know you're disappointed."

For a long while, Edward didn't say anything because he wasn't sure he'd be able to speak without his voice betraying him.

"She was supposed to come back this summer," he said, barely above a whisper, "to give me a chance to explain, to…apologize. Instead…" – anger borne of bitter disappointment consumed him – "Instead, she's acting like a little girl," he hissed, "acting like a baby because a few, stupid people…she's just a little girl, always worried about getting embarrassed."

Esme was quiet for a few minutes, allowing her son to regain some sense of composure.

"Edward…" She stroked his head and spoke to him the way she used to when he was a young boy. "I'm sure it's not easy being a young man, but seeing as I've never been one, I can't comment on that; I can only tell you about young girls. It's not easy, especially at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…you're changing, growing, stuck between being a child and a woman. And being shamed in front of family and friends…"

Edward swallowed thickly.

"It _is_ a big deal, Edward, especially at that age, so don't discount her feelings so callously."

He whipped his head up and met his mother's green eyes, exactly like his and Masen's.

"I'm sorry," he said, hearing the shame in his voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

She smiled tenderly, still running her fingers through his hair. "Well, it's not me you want to be apologizing to, is it, Son?"

When he shook his head, she nodded knowingly.

"And while I may agree that perhaps the best thing would've been to have Bella come this summer and face everyone with her beautiful head held high…well, I've got a feeling that her reluctance to return wasn't met with much resistance."

Edward dropped his head again, cradling it between his hands to keep it from exploding.

"Apologizing to her is almost all I've thought about all year," he confessed, "and now…now I'm going off to the air corps next year…and I don't know if she'll return next summer, and I may have to leave with her thinking me some horrible louse. I mean, I've _always_ protected her! Defended her! So I made a couple of stupid mistakes. Shouldn't every other time I've stood up for her negate that?" He brought his eyes back to his mother. "Shouldn't I have a right to make amends?"

But instead of agreeing, Edward's mother frowned, her eyes tightening. She stopped stroking Edward's hair.

"First of all, Edward, you seem to be thinking yourself awfully entitled to many rights here."

Edward tried to protest, but this time, his mother wouldn't give him a word in edgewise.

"Your protection and defense of Bella when she's needed it is nothing more than what any gentleman should do, what I hope your father and I have brought you up to do, so don't pat yourself on the back too much for it or think that it gives you any other privileges."

Shame washed over him yet again. "I'm sorry, Mama, but that's not what I meant."

"I believe it is," she retorted with a raised brow. "You have no rights over Bella, Edward, regardless of what you've ever done for her or how long you've known her. She may be a young girl, but always remember that she is still your equal in every way, as is your sister, and as am I." Her hand went to her hip, and that's when Edward knew he'd really gotten his mother riled up. "We may be women, and at times we may appreciate the help of a gentleman in protecting us from physical harm, but that doesn't make us weaker of mind by any means, and that protection does not afford you any sort of innate rights. Make sure you always remember that, Young Man."

Edward's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Yes, Ma'am."

And just like that, Esme Cullen's features once more softened.

"You and Bella have known each other for a few years now, and you have always been a gentleman with her, Edward, and yes, you have protected her. But…"

She trailed off, holding Edward's gaze, and as wary as Edward felt in that moment, he couldn't look away.

"But…is that all there is there, Edward, a need to protect her?"

And that right there was _the_ question, the one that would completely alter his life plans if answered aloud.

So he didn't.

But Esme simply smiled, cupping his cheek in her warm hand as if she didn't need the question answered.

"Edward, you're a young man now, ready to go off into the service next year, and I know I can't stop you. All I can do is hope that our President is able to keep us out of this growing conflict in Europe. Beyond that, I'll do as countless numbers of mothers have done before me: pray that you're returned to us safe and sound. But you're my son, and I've watched you grow and put this dream of yours before all others."

"Mama, if I let her in…if I let it happen," he tried to explain, "she'd change _everything_, and…I don't know if I'd know how to deal with that."

Edward's mother chuckled indulgently. "Oh Son, it's not a matter of changing your dreams, but of allowing yourself to dream of more - of something that may be _beyond_ what you could've ever imagined: an education…love…a family of your own…"

He shook his head vehemently. "I won't leave her behind, waiting. I won't. It would be the most…cowardly and unfair thing I could ever do to her."

"Oh, Darling," Esme said, her tender eyes holding Edward's gaze, "what would be cowardly and unfair would be you denying yourself what you feel and denying a young lady who may feel the same, the beauty of your heart. Everything else works itself out, one way or the other. You can't shut yourself off because you're afraid to _feel_. Trust me, Edward. No matter how hard you try, your heart won't allow it."

And with that, Esme Cullen walked back inside her home, leaving Edward to think over his mother's words, to figure out his thoughts and his heart…to imagine a summer without the river…

And without Bella.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 15:**

_**If I Didn't Care**_** (1939) by The Ink Spots:**

_**If I didn't care more than words can say****  
****If I didn't care would I feel this way?****  
****If this isn't love then why do I thrill?****  
****And what makes my head go 'round and 'round****  
****While my heart stands still?**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	15. Chapter 14 - Summer Sisters

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Summer 1939: Summer Sisters**

In mid-1939, while Europe was busy mobilizing for conflict, Alice and I were having a grand old summer in Chicago, USA.

It was the summer before I turned fifteen, an age when young girls begin to believe themselves women, and our parents' intelligence and advice is no longer considered as sage as it may have once been. Mother's words of wisdom had held question with me for at least a couple of years now, but my dad, Charlie, was still my hero, and I was thrilled to spend an entire summer with him. As for poor Charlie, after having had six years to get used to not seeing me every day, now he had on his hands not one but two teenaged girls at the brink of womanhood.

"What are you girls up to today?"

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"Are you sure you're okay around here by yourselves?"

"I'm sure Jacob would be more than happy to accompany you."

Charlie stopped hovering after about our second week there. He allowed us to proceed with our days however we saw fit as long as we helped around the house and volunteered at Church on Sundays – which left us with free afternoons and Saturdays where we could explore to our hearts' content.

Oh don't get me wrong, we were good girls. Still innocent where it mattered, with no inkling as to how we, along with an entire world, were about to lose all shreds of innocence. I suppose many may say that the things we did that summer mattered little in the grand scheme of things; that the lives of two young girls and their friends were inconsequential compared to what was going on in the rest of the world. And I suppose, to a point, they'd be correct.

Yet those memories are still some of the best that I carry in my heart, moments that replay in my head like one of those movie-picture reels we used to watch on Saturdays. Regardless of everything that happened afterwards, I wouldn't give up a minute of that summer.

Because everything does matter in the grand scheme of things. Everything - from the fluttering of the smallest butterfly to the detonation of the largest bomb - makes a difference. Most of the news that summer about the impending war in Europe…well, it's all vague in my memories.

But Alice, me, Seth, and…Jacob…that's still as fresh as sparkling water in a clear, summer stream.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice and I spent our summer days cleaning and helping while our afternoons were spent with friends from the neighborhood. There was one boy, Seth, who was about seventeen or eighteen that summer, and he had his eye on tall, pretty Alice with her short, black hair and sky blue eyes. Alice would go on and on about how handsome Seth was and about how boldly he'd flirt with her as we spent afternoons and evenings on one or another's porch, talking and laughing.

"My goodness, the boy is bold!" I agreed one late-June morning as Alice and I prepared meals to take to church the following day.

"But he tones it down when your Pop is around," Alice chuckled.

"He's not a stupid boy," I snorted. "He knows my Dad will box his ears if he gets fresh in front of him!"

We both laughed, but then I stopped stirring the potatoes in the stew and looked at Alice.

"What about Jasper? I thought you said you loved him."

Alice paused her chopping to look at me.

"I do love Jasper. It's just some harmless flirting, Bella," she smiled. "Let's face it; this is most likely the first and last time I'll be this far from home."

I held her gaze, thinking of my treks from one end of the country to the other in the past six years, including trips to Paris, Rome, and London. We led such different lives, she and I, yet for the two and a half summer months we spent together every year, Alice and I were like sisters. It was why I couldn't bear the thought of doing without her this summer, even if I wasn't ready to go back to Forks, to face…him.

"I'm fine with it, honestly," she continued, "but I'd like to have at least some scandalous memories to keep me warm in my old age, and I sure as heck won't be making those in the mountains of Washington."

She laughed at what must have been my startled expression.

"You want to be scandalous?"

"Well, I'm not talking about running down the streets naked as a jaybird, Bella, but yes, I'd like to do something daring at least once in my life."

"Like kissing Seth you mean."

She grinned mischievously, but then slowly shook her head. "No," she sighed. "I won't kiss Seth…but _he_ doesn't have to know that!"

We broke into more fits of laughter, and once I took up my mixing again, Alice resumed her chopping.

"Bella…tell me what's going on between you and Jacob."

I kept my eyes glued to the stew pot, but I could feel the flush in my face, and I hoped the heat wafting from the stew could be blamed.

"Nothing is going on."

"I see the way he looks at you," Alice said. "You said you weren't sure if he still liked you, but from what I've seen in these past few weeks, I'm sure he does. He's just not as direct as his friend Seth."

"Alice, we grew up together. He's like a brother to me."

"I truly doubt he feels brotherly towards you," Alice chuckled.

I didn't respond, yet after a few moments, I could still feel her gaze on me.

"What?"

"Is that what you'd tell me if I asked you about Edward, that he's like a brother to you?"

My breath left me in a long rush, and I flashed startled eyes up to her.

Alice smirked. "Isabella Marie, just because you've never said anything doesn't mean I never noticed. I mean, I wasn't sure, but after everything that happened last summer…truth be told, I'm a bit hurt that here we are, best friends for almost six whole years now, and you haven't opened up to me about how you feel about my brother."

"I'm sorry, Ally, but he's your brother," I shrugged. "It felt…weird."

Alice frowned. "It's okay, but why would it feel weird to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I was being…a little girl."

"Why would I think you were being a little girl?"

My eyes dropped back to the pot, and I mixed away, fighting back the ache that always accompanied thoughts of Edward now.

"Because that's what Edward thinks of me."

Alice left the chopping block and made her way to me, but I couldn't lift my eyes from the pot.

"I've wondered sometimes…he's always been so…protective of you, always following you with his eyes."

"He's protective of you too."

"Yeah, but I'm his sister."

"That's all I am to him as well - just another pain-in-the-behind little sister."

"Hey!"

"You know what I mean."

Alice reached out and pushed back my long hair, holding my gaze thoughtfully.

"Is that the real reason why you didn't want to go back to Forks this summer? Because you didn't want to see him?"

I hung my head…and nodded.

"Oh Bella," she said softly, "Edward broke things off with Jessica that very same day of your party. He was so angry at her…and at himself."

"He should've been." I scowled peevishly and then felt like such a child for doing so. That was probably why Edward couldn't feel for me what I felt for him. "I don't know," I said. "I guess I didn't want to see any of the people that laughed at me. But yes," I admitted, "mostly, I didn't want to see…Edward. It was just so…" I closed my eyes - "humiliating."

Alice hugged me tightly.

"So he broke it off with her right away?" I asked. "Did he…did he say anything after I left?"

"Well, he didn't actually say anything - at least not to me. You know he'd never talk to me about any of that. But he acted really weird though - weirder than usual - for a long while."

I dropped my eyes to the stew once more. "I just…I can't face him. Not yet. Has he...ever mentioned me?"

Alice shook her head slowly, her eyes full of apology. "Not in any way that would let me know whether he saw you as something other than a little sister, but…I don't know."

"That's okay." I shrugged and forced a smile. "That's what I figured anyway."

I'd hoped Alice would be ready to drop the subject, but of course, she wasn't.

"Is Edward the reason why you won't kiss Jacob?"

There was no point in outright lying – not to Alice. "Maybe."

"Don't hold back because of Edward," she said softly. "I mean, he kissed Jessica. And there are always girls hanging around him in school, and in the store, and at baseball."

"I get it. I do," I nodded.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Bella. My point is, most boys don't kiss just one girl all their lives. And just because we're girls doesn't mean we should limit ourselves to only liking one boy. It's not fair."

"Is this your way of saying you may actually kiss Seth after all?" I smirked.

"I…well…I just don't know!" She stomped her foot, and we both giggled again.

"Seriously, Bella, don't you ever wonder what it would be like to kiss Jacob, especially when he looks at you all moony-eyed?"

"Of course I've wondered, but it's not just thoughts of Edward that hold me back. I don't want to kiss one person when I don't really want him."

"But how can you know for sure you don't want him if you've just admitted that you wonder, yet you won't let yourself kiss him?"

"What if I get used to doing that and then do it all the time?"

"Do what?" she frowned.

"Kiss someone when my mind is truly on someone else. Then I'll marry someone and divorce him without a second thought."

"You're not going to be like your mother, Bella."

"How do you know I won't? I look more and more like her every day."

"Looking like her and acting like her are two different things. Besides, no one is talking about you marrying Jacob, just kissing him," she said with a sly grin. "Oh Bella, it would be grand if you married Edward one day so that you and I could be real sisters, but Bella…" she looked at me sadly. "Edward doesn't plan on ever getting married. You know that. You've heard him say it a thousand times, just as I have. He's going to join the Air Corps next year after he turns eighteen, and he'll be gone for a long time, and that will be that. So why shouldn't you kiss Jacob?"

I had no answer for her.

"Come on," Alice smiled. "Let's finish this stew and go make some scandalous memories to keep us nice and warm into our ripe, old age!"

We both laughed and went back to our cooking.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Today is Edward's seventeenth birthday," I reminded Alice a couple of mornings later.

We were in my bedroom, getting ready for the day.

"Oh my God, that's right!" she chuckled. "I can't believe I almost forgot." She sat on the edge of the bed and sucked her teeth. "Now we've got to stop and call home, and that's just going to cut into our time even more!"

I chuckled. "He's your brother. You have to call him on his birthday."

"Yes, yes," she agreed with a roll of her eyes. "He's probably working right now anyway. Come on, let's get going, and I'll call him this evening after supper."

For the rest of the day, my mind was on the copper-haired young man. I wondered what he looked like this summer. He was now seventeen, and I wondered how he'd changed from sixteen, from the previous year; was his hair longer or shorter? Had the tips turned that blondish-red shade they tended to turn in the middle of the summer? Had he grown even taller? I'd grown a bit over the past year as well. At five foot three inches, I was exactly Mother's height, and having begun my menstrual cycle last winter, the school nurse had informed me that I'd be going through changes, though she hadn't gone into detail as to what these changes were. She did tell me that I probably wouldn't be growing much more height-wise.

My first thought then had been that Edward would tower over me forever.

And then I'd sighed quietly because really, what difference did it make?

Did he ever think of me this way? Did he ever even once stop what he was doing as I often did, struck immobile by thoughts of him, by the memory of his smile, of his evergreen eyes?

Had he even noticed I wasn't around this summer?

He was seventeen years old now, practically a man for all intents and purposes. Our male friends here in Chicago were seventeen and eighteen, so I knew they all looked more like men than boys. Yet to them, I was Isabella: a friend, an equal.

In Edward's eyes, I would forever be a _Little Girl_.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice called home after dinner, and after speaking to Esme and Carlisle, she asked to speak to Edward. I knew when he'd picked up the telephone because she broke into a very bad rendition of "_Happy Birthday." _

"May I speak with him?"

I hadn't even realized I was going to ask until the words were out, and my heart began racing in my chest, especially when Alice quickly held out the telephone to me.

With a deep breath, I took the telephone from her before I could change my mind.

"…you're no Alice Faye that's for darn sure," he was saying. "I suggest you lay off the singing and stick to more-"

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

I drew in a few successive breaths and steeled myself. "Happy Birthday, Edward."

For what felt like forever, there was no sound other than the crackling of the phones.

"Bella?"

"Yes." I tried my best to keep my voice from trembling. "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"Oh. Uhm…thanks."

Silence again.

"All right. Goodbye then."

"Bella, wait! Wait, wait!"

My breath hitched. "Yes?"

"Bella, I…I…I didn't want to talk to you over the telephone-"

"You didn't?"

"Wait! What I mean is…I…I want to say I'm sorry for what happened at your party."

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

He was sorry for the party.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," he said, sounding almost angry. "It's not. I should've never…you know."

"It's all right. It's all forgotten."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "It's _all_ forgotten?"

"Yes."

Again, we were both silent while the air crackled noisily between us.

"All right. Goodbye, Edward."

I quickly gave back the phone to Alice. She held it in her hand for a few seconds, watching me carefully before putting it back to her mouth and to her ear, and I turned away from her, running up the stairs as I inhaled and exhaled through narrowed lips, trying to regulate my thrumming heart.

No matter what, I would always crave Edward's friendship. His laughter. His smiles. And if I wanted that, then I had to learn to be like Jacob and pretend that friendship was enough.

OOOOOOOOOO

We spent the rest of that summer with new friends and a new awareness of ourselves – at least Alice did. She was a beauty, tall and shapely, with hair so black it was almost blue and blue eyes that contrasted radiantly with both her alabaster skin and dark hair. She had a confidence around young men as well, one I could only imitate, still uncomfortable in my own skin. Yes, my boobs were growing, but they were still pretty small, more like tangerines than like the big, red apples I'd stuffed inside my dress the previous summer. And though Alice swore to me that I was developing curves everywhere else, I couldn't see them.

One evening, Dad allowed us to spend the night at our friend Angela's house because we begged and begged, and poor Charlie didn't quite know how to refuse one teenaged girl, much less two. Besides, Dad knew her parents well. They were definitely nice and responsible folk, but they worked long hours and were soon fast asleep in their bedroom upstairs. Angela, assuring us that her parents slept like the dead, looked out her window and told our friends waiting outside to meet us in the basement. So Seth, Jacob, Brady, Angela, Alice and I ended up in the basement having an impromptu party with Glen Miller and Billie Holiday on the radio, learning to swing dance with cigarettes in our mouths and cups full of bathtub gin in our hands.

Now I took one sip of that homemade concoction and spit it out in one long stream, but Alice downed the entire cupful. So then we ended up in the bathroom a few minutes later with me holding back Alice's pretty bob while she vomited into the toilet bowl. Seth was at her other side, and Jacob waited just outside the small bathroom, continually asking me if there was anything he could do.

##########

Skye grins teasingly. "Nana, you were smoking, drinking and dancing at a makeshift party with great-great grandpa Charlie unaware? You fresh, scandalous girl!"

"Skye," Isabella warns.

I laugh. "Well, we were definitely working on Alice's scandalous memories, yes. Besides, as I keep telling you children, times haven't changed all that much. Don't think we don't know what you're all up to because we were up to pretty much the same."

"Mama, I never heard that story before," Leah chuckles.

"You haven't heard many of my stories before, Sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable; we've still got a bit to go," I confirm.

##########

The party ended pretty quickly after that. We cleaned up, and Angela, Alice and I made our way on tip-toes to Angela's bedroom.

"I'm so embarrassed!" Alice moaned while the three of us lay like sardines over Angela's bed. "I'll never be able to live that down!"

I held Alice's hand tightly. "Alice, it could've been worse."

"How could it have been worse?" she questioned doubtfully.

"Think…apples." I smiled in the darkness.

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Alice giggled and hugged me.

"What about apples?" Angela asked.

"Never mind," both Alice and I said.

"Well, I've got something that'll make you both forget all about apples and vomiting," Angela said with a smile in her voice. She turned on her lamp and reached under her bed, coming up with a magazine.

"I swiped this from my dad's closet when he wasn't looking."

Side by side we sat up in bed and stared at one another, wide eyed.

"Should we look at it?" I asked.

"I don't know," Alice said.

"Of course we should," Angela chuckled. "Here. We'll close our eyes, and I'll turn to a random page, and then we'll count to three and open our eyes at the same time. Deal?"

Alice and I looked at one another and shrugged.

So we closed our eyes. Angela flipped the magazine to a random page and counted quietly to three before we opened up, and when we did, I do believe all our mouths fell wide open.

"That can't be real! She can't really have put that in her mouth!" Alice whispered. She flipped the magazine to the front cover. "Are you sure this isn't a horror magazine? This can't be real!"

We gaped at one another again - and then broke out into hysterical fits.

"Eww! Ewww!" Alice cried. "And is that what they really look like? Oh my goodness, that's the ugliest thing I've ever seen! I think I may vomit again!"

"Let's not look at anymore!" I said.

"Definitely not!" Angela agreed.

Ten minutes later, we were still flipping through pages, having slowly become both reconciled and acclimated with what we were looking at.

"All right, just one last one," Alice said.

We repeated the same process: closing our eyes, flipping blindly and then opening to another page. Now for this particular illustration, I had to flip the magazine sideways to understand what I was seeing.

"I've seen horses do that," Alice finally confirmed.

Angela shrugged. "All right, one more and that's really it."

The last one silenced us yet again.

"I'd let Brady do that to me," Angela finally whispered.

"You would?" I asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "He's already touched them."

"It kind of makes you tingle between your legs, doesn't it? Looking at that."

I said nothing.

"Isabella, how about you?" Angela asked. "Would you ever let a boy kiss them like that?"

I glanced down at my chest. "Even if I wanted to, there wouldn't be much there to kiss."

Alice pursed her lips. "Bella, I keep telling you: they're growing!"

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. Come on, let's go to sleep."

And with that, Angela shoved the magazine far under her bed, and we shut off the lamp.

Half an hour later, I was still awake, though I could hear Angela snoring to my left, and Alice's rhythmic breathing to my right.

"Alice," I whispered. "Alice."

"What?"

"Do you think Edward did any of that with Jessica?"

"I don't know, but...I don't think so, Bella," Alice whispered back. "Go to sleep."

Another hour or so passed while I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

OOOOOOOOOO

The weeks passed. In late July, it got really hot in Chicago. Lacking a nearby river, we made plans one afternoon to take a drive to a lake not too far away. Seth had a car, and so after most of the boys had finished work for the day, our group made its way over there for a swim.

It was a very pretty lake with cool, sparkling waters and a shallow shoreline that made it easy to wade in slowly. But the sight of the lake, though cool and inviting, made me homesick for Forks, for my beautiful, cool river…and for the copper-haired boy who always took care of me…his little girl.

After wading in the shallow end for the better part of an hour, I wrapped myself in a towel and took a seat in the warm grass just a few feet away, folding up my legs and watching Angela and Brady swim off together while Alice played and splashed with Seth. It was a scene so reminiscent of summers past, yet so different.

Jacob took a seat next to me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's...very nice, yes."

"Why aren't you in there with her?"

I smiled, giggling when Seth picked up Alice and unceremoniously dumped her a few feet away in the water, making her squeal.

"I'd rather just watch for now."

Jacob sat there silently, but I could feel him side-eyeing me.

"Jacob, you don't have to stay out here with me," I assured him. "I'm really fine by myself."

"I know you are, but I'd rather be out here too."

His voice was low and unsure, and I bit my lip miserably because what good was a friendship when you couldn't even be honest with each other?

I turned to look at him, and he slowly met my gaze.

"Jacob…do you remember when I was here a couple of years ago, and you tried to-"

"To kiss you." He swallowed thickly. "Yes, I remember. But Isabella, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"But Jacob, _this_ makes me uncomfortable," I admitted. "This…making believe that everything is fine between us."

He frowned, pinching his full lips tightly as he glared down at the ground. I took the opportunity to study him. His hair was as dark as Alice's and his skin almost as dark due to the Native American blood that coursed through him. He was tall and so very muscular, and the sun made his bare, brown shoulders almost glow.

"Do you still…want to kiss me?"

This time, his eyes flashed back to mine quickly. "I don't want to do anything that you don't want to do, Isabella."

I sighed and reached out, curling my hand around his shoulder.

"Jacob, I don't know if I want to kiss you. I'm…confused, I guess."

I smiled apologetically, but his mouth broke out into a large grin that showcased perfectly white teeth.

"You mean, you may actually _want_ to…kiss me?" The hope in his voice was painfully audible.

I studied my hand on his shoulder.

"Isabella, you know I'd never rush you or anything, but half of the summer is already gone. Besides, I'll be leaving come fall, and I don't know when I'll be back."

My eyes shot up to his sharply. "Where are you going?"

"I'm off to the Navy – Seth, Brady and I. There's nothing for us here, Isabella, just odd jobs when we're lucky, so we're off to serve our country, and hopefully, by the time we get back, things will be better."

For years I'd been hearing Edward talk of his wish to go off and join the Air Corps and fly his planes. It wasn't until the past few weeks or so, with all the talk of impending war in Europe that I'd begun to understand what that meant.

"But Jacob," I breathed, "there's talk of war."

He smirked and shook his head. "There won't be war, Isabella, at least not here in the U.S. Our President won't let that happen."

I held his gaze, imagining Edward…and Jacob in places so far away, places of which I didn't want to think. My lungs suddenly felt tight and constricted.

"Are you okay?" Jacob asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Jacob, are you sure the war won't come here?"

"I'm very sure, only…"

"Only what?"

"Only now you've got me wondering. Isabella, if I tried to kiss you now, would you let me?"

My breath caught in my throat. I inhaled deeply and let my eyes wander to the lake, to where Alice now stood with Seth so very close. He held her chin in his hands, and she gazed up at him in awe.

To Edward, I would never be more than a little girl. Even when we'd spoken on the telephone for his birthday, he'd had no more than two sentences for me. Perhaps friends were all we were fated to be…perhaps it was time to let go of that little girl's dream.

I swallowed thickly and met Jacob's hopeful gaze head on.

"You'll never know unless you try."

He drew in a deep breath, and as I watched him slowly lower his mouth to mine, I closed my eyes.

For a couple of years now, I'd been dreaming of my first kiss. Alice had filled my head with comparisons to fireworks - to heaven, to hell and to everything in between.

When Jacob's lips met mine, his kisses were soft, sweet, tender and…very pleasant. He pressed his mouth lightly to mine a couple of times and then gently sucked on my top lip before pulling away.

Smiling, he asked, "How was that?"

"That was…very nice."

"Was that your first kiss?"

I nodded.

"I'm glad it was me."

A sharp, little ache tickled my chest, but I forced it down and away.

"May I kiss you again?" he requested hopefully.

I filled my lungs. "Yes. Yes, you may."

* * *

**A/N: Hold on, hold on. Let me grab my shield, armor and chainmail!**

**Okay, fire at will, fire at will!**

**I mean, Thoughts? ;)**

**I received a lot of comments after the last chapter with readers hoping that Edward would go to Chicago with Alice to see Bella, but there were at least a couple of reasons why that wouldn't have been possible (at least in my mind):**

**First, Edward is working full-time for the summer. This was 1939, still the Great Depression, and finding a job of any kind was a HUGE blessing. It's not very likely that he could've asked his boss for what would've been at least a week off to travel to Chicago. It would've taken at least three days to get there, and then three days back. **

**Second, it cost a pretty penny to buy a ticket from Washington State to Chicago, a pretty penny which Edward, as well as his family, were in no position to spend without some serious consideration. It was already a bit of a hardship for Carlisle and Esme to send Alice to Chicago, and I doubt they would've had the funds to send Edward. Yes, perhaps Edward could've paid for his own ticket with the money he was making, but again, it would've been quite an expense, and Edward was working mostly to save for Masen, and again, what were the chances he could've gotten the time off?**

**Lastly, who's to say that Edward would've been welcome under Charles Swan's roof? Not because Bella would've made him feel unwelcome or tattled to her dad about how Edward treated her the summer before, but the truth is that Edward was an unknown, seventeen-year old boy, and I'm not so sure that Charlie would've been comfortable having this virtual stranger under the same roof as his fifteen-year-old daughter. Yes, he could've stayed in a hotel, but again, it would've been cost-prohibitive.**

**Chapter song rec: **

**AOI Playlist Song # 16:**

_**I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now**_** (1939) by Ted Weems and Perry Como:**

_**I wonder who's kissing her now  
**__**Wonder who's teaching her how  
**__**Wonder who's looking into her eyes  
**__**Breathing her sighs…**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	16. Chapter 15- 1939: The Summer Without Her

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your continuously wonderful reviews. You guys are just the best. **

**As I type this A/N, snowflakes are falling outside of my window. We're expecting 18 – 24 inches between today and tomorrow, and while I LOVE snow, I'm truly hoping we don't lose power! Therefore, I'm posting a bit early just in case. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer, the rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 15 – 1939: The Summer Without Her**

Edward spent the summer of 1939 working at the mill and helping around the farm. Masen was working long days at the mill and then dedicating every spare moment he had to laying down a foundation for the house he planned to build for him and Rose to live in someday. Come fall, Masen would be off to college, but next summer, Rose would be graduating high school and marrying him. The house would probably take a few years to complete; in the meantime, Rose would live with Carlisle and Esme, and Masen would come home to her whenever he could. When Masen finished college, he'd come home to stay, apprentice under Carlisle, and eventually take over the vet business.

In the meantime, Edward and Jasper would work on Masen's house as much as they could, at least until Edward's turn to go away, and Jasper's turn to marry a Cullen.

That was the plan.

Therefore, it was a busy summer. Their days by the river became nothing more than memories, a legacy to their younger days before adult responsibilities began creeping in.

Yet Edward thought of those days constantly.

He'd stop while at the mill or while laying down two by fours or as he was holding down a cow for examination. At those times, he'd remember every single summer with Bella: her yearly arrivals, her bright, golden eyes, her sweet laughter, her beautiful, long, dark hair waving behind her as she ran to meet him. His mind replayed every single day with her, from that first encounter when she'd almost drowned, to the regular, mundane days when they'd done nothing more than play by the river. He remembered the camp-out, when he'd stared at the top of his tent all night berating himself for having scared her so badly and wishing he could just wrap her in his arms and keep her safe – always.

Bella's arrival in Forks was what he'd always looked forward to for nine and a half months out of the year. She ushered in the warmth that kindled his heart for the rest of the year. _She_ was the summer; he knew that now. He could…admit that now.

Now that she wasn't here.

OOOOOOOOOO

Sundays, which had once been reserved for attending church before relaxing by the river, were now reserved for working on Masen's foundation. They hammered and sawed and argued and laughed because working on the foundation had become their form of recreation. More men than boys now, they knew they couldn't spend all summer by the river, no matter how much they may have wanted to.

They took breaks and ate sandwiches over the grass, and then afterwards, Masen, Edward and Jasper shared their thoughts in one of the limited ways young men their ages were able to share.

So while Masen sat on the grass, watching and snickering at the sight of Edward and Jasper circling one another, Edward and Jasper stood with fists up and ready.

"In honor of your birthday today, I'm gonna take you down, Boy," Jasper sneered, swiping his nose with his thumb. "Like Joe Louis did a couple of weeks ago with Tony "Two Ton," I'm gonna wipe the floor with you, Cullen."

Edward smirked, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. "Whitlock, you talk more garbage than did Two Ton before he got the ever-living lights knocked out of him."

Jasper chuckled. "Son, I'm gonna make a gift outta that pretty nose of yours. Think I'll break it into seventeen pieces and blacken both those eyes so that if little Miss Bella ever does return-"

Edward shut Jasper up with a left hook that sent him reeling.

"Edward, take it easy!" Masen yelled.

Jasper licked the blood off his lip and warily moved forward again. "Didn't like that, did you, Cullen? What's the matter? D'ja think we hadn't noticed? Tell you what though, what I'd still like to know is why you acted like such a dumb-ass last- Oof!"

Edward knocked Jasper to the ground with a right cross, followed by a left uppercut.

Jasper shook his head from side to side, and appearing somewhat dazed, staggered back to his feet, shaky fists in front.

"Just tell us once and for all what you're thinking," Jasper asked in all seriousness, dropping his fists to his sides. "Ed, I've known that girl was yours since the first day I met her, and you gave me that evil eye warning me off. Masen says it's been that way since the day you met her."

"You two spend your time gossipin' about my life like little old ladies?" Edward asked.

"What's going on, Brother?" Jasper asked, ignoring Edward's ire. "What was all that crap last summer? Why'd you purposely do everything possible to push her away?"

Edward's nostrils flared. He pulled back a fist and Jasper cringed, closing one eye…

But the fist never made contact. Instead, Edward dropped down over the grass and let his head fall forward, cradling it in his hands. Jasper sat a few feet away from him.

"I was trying to protect her. I did it for her own good."

"Protect her from what?" Masen questioned.

"From me, of course," Edward answered, looking at his brother as if it should've been obvious. "You're the one who told me when we were kids that she's meant for Peter." At Masen's blank look, Edward raised a brow. "Rich girls don't end up with poor boys."

Masen shook his head slowly back and forth. "That's what's been eating at you? Ed, Little Brother, you put way too much stock in what I say. What the hell do I know about what rich girls do? 'Sides, Bella's never been like most rich girls - like Lauren and such."

"Regardless, it wouldn't work," Edward said, glaring at the ground, angrily pulling up the grass next to him.

Masen frowned. "Why wouldn't it work? Cuz she's young? Rosie was younger than that."

"It's more than all that," Edward scowled.

"Yeah, yeah," Masen smirked. "I think I can guess at the rest of it, but that bit's up to you; you do know that, right?"

"It may not _all_ be up to me," Edward muttered. "What would I ever have to offer?"

Masen stared at his brother and shook his head. "Like I said, that's up to you. But if you don't even want to give it a go, then you can hold up them fists as high as you want and you still won't be man enough for a real fight."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward spent the next few hours thinking about what Masen had said. He thought all the way into the early evening when Alice called from Chicago. She spoke to their parents first, and then to him to wish him a happy birthday, and all the while Edward wondered where Bella was, even as Alice broke into a pretty bad rendition of _'Happy Birthday.'_

"Alice Cullen, you're no Alice Faye that's for darn sure," he snickered. "I suggest you lay off the singing and stick to more-"

"Hello?"

His heart stopped.

"Hello?"

"Happy Birthday, Edward."

He had a voice, he knew he did, but for the life of him, he couldn't find it. For what felt like hours, the air crackled noisily between them before he was finally able to form a word.

"Bella?"

"Yes."

Edward closed his eyes, allowing himself two seconds to revel in the sweetness of that word. He swallowed thickly.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday," she said.

"Oh. Uhm…thanks," he replied, swallowing the excess saliva in his mouth while his mind raced with all the things he wanted to say to her. For almost a year, he'd been waiting for this moment – no, not exactly this moment because he'd wanted to speak to her personally, but she was on the telephone, apparently willing to speak to him. It was more than he'd allowed himself to hope for.

Yet he had no idea where to begin, what to say - especially with his Mama and Pop right there.

"All right. Good bye."

And suddenly, his chance to fix things was almost gone.

"Bella, wait! Wait, wait!"

"Yes?" she said, sounding almost annoyed.

"Bella, I…I…I didn't want to talk to you over the telephone-"

"You didn't?" Now she really sounded upset.

"Wait! What I mean is…I…I…" Edward looked up to find his Mama and Pop's eyes right on him. They quickly shifted their gazes when they saw him catch them staring, Esme pretending to mix something over the stove while Carlisle hid behind his newspaper.

He drew in a deep breath, wondering what he could possibly say with an audience around.

##########

"Why didn't he just walk with the phone into another room?" Skye (Olivia) asks impatiently. "Lock himself in the bathroom or something?"

"Sweetheart," I smile, "back in those days, the telephone was fixed to the wall, and the cord was very short. There wasn't much moving around while you were on the telephone."

"Oh," Skye (Olivia smirks). "Well that sucks."

I chuckle. "Yes. Yes, it did suck."

##########

"I want to say I'm sorry for what happened at your party."

She was quiet for a few seconds while his heart hammered in his chest.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," he said, angry at himself all over again for the events of the previous summer. "It's not. I should've never…" He looked up.

His parents were watching again. Once more, they quickly shifted their gazes.

He smirked. "…you know."

Jesus, he wished she was right there with him. Better yet, he wished they were somewhere alone so he could talk to her about _everything_.

"It's all right. It's all forgotten."

He frowned, wondering what exactly that meant.

"It's _all_ forgotten?"

"Yes."

His hand tightened around the telephone and shut his eyes against every implication in those three words. All forgotten. It was _all_ forgotten.

Of course it was. What more could he have expected?

"All right. Goodbye, Edward."

"Wait! Bella, wait!" But in the next instant, Alice was back on the line, and Edward stood there, cursing his life.

And so the days passed, and Edward worked and slept and worked…and wondered just what in the hell he was working towards.

OOOOOOOOOO

One day in mid-July, he was at the mercantile with Jasper and Masen. They'd gone to pick up some supplies they'd ordered: nails and a couple of new saws and such, but Mike Newton, a classmate of Edward's and the store clerk who had replaced him when he'd left the Stanley's Mercantile, was as slow as molasses.

"You need some help back there, Newton?" Edward called out impatiently while Masen and Jasper snickered behind him. "Almost a year into the job and still having trouble finding your way around the stockroom?"

"That guy would have trouble finding his way around his own back yard," Masen whispered.

Jasper chuckled again, and Edward shook his head.

"Well, good afternoon, Young Men."

Edward turned around to find Philip Dwyer behind the three of them, dressed in one of his three-piece suits, hat in hand.

"Afternoon, Mr. Dwyer," they each responded.

"How's the summer been treating you boys?"

"Not too bad," Masen smiled while Edward and Jasper each mumbled "okay" not too convincingly.

"Masen, I hear congratulations are in order for a wedding that's to occur next year?"

"Yes, Sir." Masen beamed proudly.

"I wish you the best, Son. I truly do. You've grown into a fine, young man and…I'm sure your parents are both very proud of you."

Edward could feel his brother's discomfort at this unexpected bit of praise. He heard Masen mumble a few words of gratitude.

Dwyer seemed to stare at Masen for a few seconds, and then blinking, he clapped his hands once and grinned.

"So, are you all missing the girls yet this summer?"

Edward turned around and dropped his gaze at the question.

"Summers sure aren't the same without the little sisters," he heard Masen chuckle.

"Yeah. They've sure taken the best of the season with them," Jasper griped.

Edward said nothing. Instead, he busied himself with staring at the displays of lace directly inside the glass counter over which he was leaning. Soon, Mr. Stanley came out and engaged Mr. Dwyer in conversation, relieving Edward and the boys from that duty. And while Edward continued waiting for their supplies, he half-listened to their conversation.

"I give it a few months before all hell breaks loose over there," Mr. Dwyer said.

"You think so? I don't know. I think the British will still try to find a way to keep it from coming to war."

"It's too late for that. The Nazis have signed a pact with Mussolini. They're gearing up. What more signs do you need that Hitler is not stopping until he's stopped?"

"As long as it doesn't come here."

"Well, if it comes here, it may not be so bad for us businessmen," Philip chuckled.

"It's coming here," Edward found himself saying.

Mr. Dwyer and Mr. Stanley looked at him.

"I don't think FDR will allow that to happen," Mr. Stanley said.

Edward leaned against the glass counter case. "My pop says he's heard that our military is planning on conscripting more guys by the end of the year."

"Yes," Mr. Dwyer said, holding Edward's gaze. "Yes, I've heard that too."

"Well, I sure hope they don't call me up to serve," Mike said, finally emerging from the stock room – with what looked like only half of Edward's supplies.

"You've got a responsibility to your country if they call you up," Edward said, not even bothering to disguise the disgust in his voice.

"How 'bout you boys?" Mr. Dwyer asked. "Do you boys plan to enlist?"

"Soon as I turn eighteen next year, Sir," Edward confirmed.

"If I'm called to serve, then I'll do so with honor," Masen said, "but I don't plan on volunteering like my brother here," he chuckled.

"Hey, where's the rest of our stuff?" Jasper said, interrupting the topic of conversation. "Where's the other bag of nails? And the hammers? And the-"

"I'm bringing it! I'm bringing it!" Mike moaned, disappearing back into the stock room. "I gotta find the rest. 'Sides, it's heavy stuff!"

"We're still waiting for our supplies as well, Son!" Mr. Dwyer called out.

"Wish you wouldn't have quit," Mr. Stanley said as a regretful aside to Edward, "even if you and my daughter did end on bad terms. Lots of people needing jobs, yet good help is _still_ damn hard to find."

Just then, Jessica walked out from the back, where her house connected to the store, and Edward was reminded of why he was so quick to quit the job at the mercantile.

"Edward, you're a filthy mess!" She pulled off his cap and wiped off the dust from his hair. "Where are your manners? Keeping your cap on indoors!"

Edward backed away from her so that her hand fell from his hair, and taking back his cap, he replaced it over his head.

"I apologize for my lack of manners, but I figured keeping the cap on would be better than spreading dust all over your store," he muttered, trying not to be too rude to her in front of her pop. Besides, sometimes he still felt sort of bad about how he'd pretty much used her last summer.

But when he'd remember how she'd laughed at Bella…well, all his pity would more or less disappear.

"You know, Mike rearranged all the shelves you set up in the back," she grinned. "Says he can't understand what kind of system you had going cuz it sure as hell makes no sense. His system, he can find things easier."

"His system must be working wonders," Edward said dryly, "especially when we've been waiting near twenty minutes here for our supplies, and Dwyer's been waiting just as long."

Jessica scowled at him and stomped back into her house. Edward suppressed a grin, but when he turned around, he was momentarily startled and embarrassed to find Dwyer looking directly at him.

The chiming of the bell over the door signaled another customer, and when Edward turned to see who it was, for once split second, his heart jumped in his chest.

If it wasn't for the blond hair and blue eyes, the curvier figure, and the air of entitlement that swirled all around Renee Dwyer, Edward would've sworn it was Bella. The resemblance was at times like a punch in the gut. It reminded him that one day soon, Bella would be seventeen…eighteen…and he knew what was expected of her.

As soon as Renee caught sight of Edward and the other two young men, she rolled her eyes away from them. And while all three young men greeted her entrance with the respect afforded any lady, she completely ignored them.

"Philip, Darling, are you ready to go?"

"Not quite yet," Philip responded. "Young Mr. Newton is still searching for my order."

"Ugh, these small-town boys have no idea how to run a business, even a small-town business such as this."

"Now, now, Renee," Philip said, a note of exasperation in his tone, "I'm sure the Newton boy is doing his best."

"I'm sure he is," she retorted sarcastically, and while Edward could only agree with her assessment of Mike, there was no way in hell he was going to agree with her aloud.

And so they continued waiting around, and Edward heard Renee Dwyer complaining about how small the store was, how she was beginning to feel claustrophobic, how barbaric it was that there was only one main store in the entire town, how she'd much rather vacation in her home in New York, or better yet, in Europe.

Not once did she mention her daughter.

"I've already explained to you, Darling," Philip said, "if we'd stayed in New York, then that isn't really a vacation is it? And we can't go to Europe at the moment with all the conflict going on over there."

She either dismissed him or the conflict with an angry wave of her hand.

Mike finally appeared with the rest of their order, as well as with Mr. Dwyer's order, and he received all the ribbing he deserved from Masen and Jasper.

"Maybe you should let my brother here help you rearrange everything back there in a way that makes sense." Masen laughed, while Mike glared down at the bills of sale. Edward said nothing, not even when it was apparent that Mike had no idea how to add up all their supplies. Masen and Jasper again tried to be helpful, but between them and Mike, none of them could figure it out.

Finally out of patience, Edward snatched the bills out of Mikes hand and took a look at them, quickly letting Mike know how much they owed.

"You sure?" Mike asked, glowering at him suspiciously.

"When you have time and you don't have a line of people waiting, go ahead and take all the time you need to do the math, and let me know if we owe you anything!" He slammed the money down on the counter.

"Edward's calculations are correct," Mr. Dwyer said, a note of amusement in his features as he moved up to claim his own purchases. "I vouch for it, Mr. Newton."

"Philip, let them pay for their own things!" Renee screeched.

"I'm merely vouching for young Mr. Cullen's mathematical abilities," Dwyer said, and then to Edward, "That was pretty quick adding there, Young Man."

Edward acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

"As my wife doesn't seem to believe a small-town boy capable of such things," he continued as he paid for his items, "I'm happy to point out her erroneous misconceptions whenever I can, especially since she often seems to forget that I'm a small-town boy as well."

"Yes, well, it's difficult to acknowledge the accomplishments of individuals who caused me – and our daughter," she added quickly, "quite a bit of embarrassment last summer, and who are at fault for her not wanting to return this summer. As a matter of fact, she may not want to return to Forks anymore at all. Which is fine by me, as she'll be having her coming out in a couple of years and-"

Edward felt as if all the air were being sucked out of the small store.

"Of course she's returning next summer, Renee. I allowed her a summer in Chicago, but I'll be wanting our daughter back with us next summer, as I'm sure you will, Darling."

"Of course," Renee smirked. "I just hope that when she does return, she'll have a better understanding of what constitutes meaningful friendships." She looked pointedly at Edward.

"I'm sure she will," Philip said, and Edward could feel his gaze on him. "Time and distance tends to do that, one way or another. We're pretty lonely this summer. Lauren is with her mother in California, and our friends, the Vandernecks, aren't visiting us this season since their son, Peter, started University last year and will be spending the summer interning with his father."

"Well prepared young man, that Peter," Masen said solemnly though Edward could hear the taunt in his voice. He was surprised when Mr. Dwyer's mustache twitched as if he'd picked up on the sarcasm – and found it humorous.

"Yes, _he_ definitely is," Renee agrees.

"Well, he was born with many opportunities, and he's not wasting them, which is always a good thing. Wasted opportunities are a true shame." Again, Philip held Edward's gaze.

"Well, he ain't the only one heading for University," Masen said proudly. "I'll be going to Washington State this fall, and then once that's done, I'm going to come home and take over Pop's Vet clinic, and my Rose and I will be keeping warm up in these mountains by making lots and lots of babies!"

Edward and all the men, including Philip, roared with laughter.

Renee made a sound of disgust.

"That's very commendable of you, Masen. Good luck in school, and as I said, in all your endeavors."

"Thank you, Mr. Dwyer."

"Now if you young men wouldn't mind helping my wife and me with these packages, we'd be extremely grateful."

"Sure," Masen said.

It wasn't much, and Philip could've probably handled it all himself, but that's how rich folk were. So Edward, Jasper and Masen left their own supplies behind for a couple of minutes while each picked up a small bag and headed towards the door. When Mrs. Dwyer, Masen and Jasper had exited, Philip turned around, stopping Edward.

"I hear from Isabella that she and your sister are having a grand old time in Chicago."

Edward swallowed thickly. "She's enjoying her summer then?"

"Yes, she is," Philip confirmed.

They stared at each other.

"Well," Edward began, "I best get this bag to your-"

"Edward…we've known each other for a few years, yet this is the most we've talked since you offered to watch Isabella's dog while she was in school. Your brother plans to build a house, go to vet school, and settle down here with his sweetheart, and your friend there makes it pretty obvious he's got similar aspirations with your sister. Tell me, Edward, what are your plans for the future?"

"Well…my plans have always been to join the Air Corps, Sir. To serve my country."

Phil bounced on the heels of his feet as he listened. "That's certainly an honorable and commendable goal, but do you have plans to further your education past high school?"

Edward shrugged. "Maybe one day, when I'm done with the Service."

"Why afterwards?" Phil asked.

"I've just…never wanted the delay. I've had these plans for years, Sir."

Yet even as he said it, he saw her face in his mind… he heard her laughter in his memory. He shook his head quickly, feeling as if somehow, Dwyer had just seen into and through his mind.

"'Sides, there's no money for college, and no good jobs anyhow," he continued hastily. "What'd be the point in my delaying?"

"No, there aren't many jobs now," Philip agreed, "but if that war comes, there'll be plenty of jobs – all types of jobs. Ask your father. He's an intelligent man; I'm sure he's realized this. And those that get in on the ground floor...well, there's plenty of opportunity for those that get in the ground floor."

Edward felts Philip's intense gaze on him, as if he were being studied, and it left him with a feeling of exposure, as if the man before him could read every single thought, every last internal debate he'd ever held with himself regarding his daughter.

He started to walk to the door again.

"You know, Edward, sometimes delays aren't so bad," Philip said, halting Edward's steps once more. "They give us time to think and grow; they open up new opportunities and different avenues we may never have considered. You've always struck me as an intelligent individual - beyond the quick, school smarts you displayed a few minutes ago. Tell me, if you did further your education, what do you think would interest you?"

Edward shrugged. "Well, I've always been good with numbers, I suppose, and with building things."

"An engineer," Phil said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "The war and beyond would bring lots of great opportunities for good engineers."

"Maybe someday," Edward said, anxious to get out of that damn store. "'Sides, I'd have to work first - earn money for college. Between Masen and me, only one of us is going right now, and I'd never take from him."

"Nor would I ever suggest you do," Philip said solemnly. "I'd never take from your brother either."

The entire conversation seemed pretty strange to Edward, and before he could attempt to excuse himself and end the peculiar direction of their talk, Masen and Jasper ran back into the store.

"Hey, Edward, what's the hold up?" Masen said. "Bag too heavy for you? You want me to ask Mikey to help?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "I'd better go."

Philip nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. It was good talking to you, Edward. Think about what I said. And I'll let Isabella know you asked after her when I next speak to her."

Edward swallowed thickly. "Yes, Sir. All right, thank you."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 17:**

_**Wishing (Will Make It So)**_** (1939) by Glen Miller:**

_**The curtain of night will part**__**  
**__**If you are certain within your heart**__**  
**__**So if you wish long enough, wish strong enough, you will come to know**__**  
**__**Wishing will make it so**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**If you're in the North East like me, stay warm and stay safe against the coming blizzard! And if you don't hear from me on Thursday, it's probably because I'm buried under a mountain of snow! **


	17. Chapter 16 - New Opportunities

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews, Guys. I am so enjoying reading all your thoughts and theories. Some of you are really so great at reading between the lines!**

**And thank you for all the well-wishes you guys sent, hoping I wouldn't be buried under two feet of snow for the next few days! As it was, the weather forecasters were **_**waaay**_** of base. We only received about 7 inches or so. Weather forecasting has to seriously be one of the best professions ever: you only have to be right about 10% of the time and have absolutely no consequences to face for being wrong. But on the bright side: I'm still here!**

**Anyway, let's get back to the story. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 16 – New Opportunities**

A few days after that trip into the Mercantile, Edward was returning home from a late escape he'd made to the river with Jasper. They'd gone fishing, and he'd taken Sandy with him because she missed the river as much as he did. The entire time, she'd reverted to her puppy antics, jumping back and forth in and out of the water and scaring the darn fish so bad that he and Jasper had parted ways empty-handed.

He couldn't be upset at her though; it reminded him too much of the first time he'd seen her with Bella, jumping in and out of the water and scaring a little girl who knew nothing about dogs into thinking she was drowning.

He chuckled aloud to himself, lost in thought as he walked up to the house, Sandy jumping next to him.

When he saw Philip's fancy car in front, he quickly dropped the fishing rod and empty pail and ran at top speed the rest of the way, the dog on his tail. His heart pounded and his mind raced with thoughts of the horrors that could've befallen Bella or Alice in that damn Chicago suburb. Why in the hell they had to go there this summer…

Inside the house, he found no one in the front room, so he made his way to the kitchen.

"Now, I've already called a meeting with the members of the school board and discussed it with them-" he heard a voice he recognized as Philip Dwyer's say.

"Without discussing it with me first?" Carlisle accused.

Assured that it didn't sound as if anything had happened to Bella or Alice, Edward paused in his steps, remaining just outside of the kitchen.

"Carlisle, this will be a yearly scholarship which will not only benefit your family, but the entire community. Besides, it's a great opportunity for him. One you shouldn't dismiss off hand just out of sheer pride."

"I believe I have a right to my pride here!" Edward's father hissed.

"I have let you hold on to your pride at the expense of my own!" Phil hissed back. "And if they're both headed in the direction in which I believe they are, then that gives _me_ the right to-"

"Carlisle, Phillip." Edward watched his mother place a hand on his father's arm, alerting both men to his presence.

"What's going on?" Edward asked, looking from one wary face to another. "Are Alice and Bella all right?"

"They're just fine." Esme forced a smile. "Your sister called just a short while ago, and they're fine."

"Yes," Philip agreed. "I spoke with Isabella earlier this evening as well. They were going to the movie house with a few friends to see that new wizard film that's apparently in full color. Charles vouches for the young people's characters and assures me that he knows their parents; therefore, they have my blessing, as well as the blessing of your parents."

The three of them smiled at one another, yet to Edward, it sounded as if Dwyer had simply been rambling.

"Well, I'd best get going," Dwyer said, standing from the table where the three had been sitting. "With no children to mind this summer, Renee has convinced me to take her to the California coast for the week, and we must be up early." He looked at Carlisle. "Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible. We'll be back by weekend next."

Edward's father nodded tightly. He looked exhausted, his face drawn and resigned.

"Good night, Cullen family." Philip looked directly at Edward while petting Sandy's head. "Good girl," he grinned. "Dog sure does feel comfortable with you while my daughter's gone. Good night."

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, Edward lay in bed with his legs bent at the knee and his hands supporting his head, staring up at the ceiling. Every muscle in his body ached from a long day of work, yet he couldn't let his eyes close without his mind wandering to her, wondering what she was doing.

He snorted to himself. Last year he was so anxious to find himself a girl to put a stop to all his thoughts of her, to end the teasing from the guys in school, to put some distance between him and Bella.

To force her to give up her crush on him.

This year, he had no interest in looking at any girls, much less courting any of them. The guys had tried teasing him in school again, but he'd slammed Mike against a locker sometime around Christmas and that had ended that.

As for forcing Bella to give up her crush…

He chuckled miserably as he turned to his side, staring at the wall. Yeah, he was sure he'd done a pretty good job of that one as well.

Just as he reached over to turn off the lamp and allow himself to dream of summers past, there was a knock on his bedroom door.

"Come in."

His father walked in, followed by his mom, both with smiles pasted on their faces that seemed pretty phony and which did nothing but put him on immediate alert. Right away, he knew that this had something to do with Philip Dwyer's visit that evening.

He sat up quickly. "Are Bella and Alice really okay?" His hands shook at his sides.

Great Britain was on the brink of war, and though the European continent was far away, there were whispered conversations, tense hushes and fears of the Nazi's somehow attacking the U.S. It was yet another reason why Edward was so uncomfortable with both Bella and Alice being so far away this summer. And if the U.S. was attacked now, Edward knew he'd be enlisting despite his father's wishes that he wait until he was eighteen.

"Yes, they're fine. I promise you," Esme said softly.

Edward took a deep, calming breath, but when he looked up, both his parents were staring down at him, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"What's going on, then?"

"Edward," Carlisle sighed, "Philip was here today to offer you what is probably…a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Edward's forehead creased.

"He's decided to establish a yearly scholarship for one promising, young man from the area. The scholarship would pay for an entire college education, from beginning to end, as long as the recipient completes a two-year internship within Dwyer's corporation upon graduation. With hard work, it's a great opportunity for growth. Now, he's held a meeting with the school authorities, and they all seem to agree that you'd be the perfect candidate for this first scholarship upon your graduation next year, as long as you keep your grades up."

Edward listened to this entire speech with a feeling of surrealism, as if he were in some sort of dream – not a nightmare, but by no means something wonderful either.

"What? Why? I'm not going to college, Pop, at least not right away. You know that."

"Edward-"

"And a job in Dwyer's corporation? I'm going off to the Air Corps next year, soon as I turn eighteen. There's a war coming and-"

"Edward this is a wonderful opportunity," Esme said. She took a seat next to him and picked up his hand, smiling encouragingly.

"Tell him to give it to someone else! To Masen!" Edward pointed in the direction of Masen's room with an excitement that was more horror. "Tell him to give it to Masen; he's the one going to college this year!"

Carlisle and Esme looked at one another.

Edward's father sighed. "Edward…times are hard; you know that," he said patiently. "They've been hard…for a while. Your Mama and I…" - Esme squeezed his hand - …well, we've tried our best, but you know we've only enough to send Masen to college, and only for a couple of years at that."

"Pop-"

"Now listen to me," Carlisle demanded much more firmly. "You'll be of legal age come next year, and if you choose to go straight into the service, I can't stop you. But right now, you are still under age and under my roof! I'm just asking you to listen. Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes, Sir," Edward said, nostrils flaring.

"Try to see things long range, Edward. Now war's coming; we all know that. Those who don't believe it are just sticking their heads in the sand. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but it's coming, and I know you're anxious to serve your country. Yet it would serve you well to think about this: you go to college now, and you'll have something to fall back on when you return. The chance for an education, Son, is not to be taken lightly. It's nothing to be dismissed out of…well, out of sheer pride or stubbornness."

"I know that, Pop, but I never asked-"

"No, you didn't, but we would've wanted to provide it had things been different. Masen gets his two years because he wants to take over the practice, but that's not fair to you."

"I'm not worried about that. Masen's always been the one meant to take over the practice."

Carlisle scrubbed a hand down his face. "Look at it another way. Being a college man, you'd be eligible to apply for officer's training instead of serving as an enlisted."

"I don't mind starting at the bottom."

"I know you don't, but don't throw away a fine opportunity just to make a point!" Carlisle said through gritted teeth. "This has been offered to _you_, Edward. An education will serve you…and possibly a family of your own…in the future. A decent job where you won't have to struggle. If you won't consider it for yourself, at least consider it for the wife…for the family you may someday have."

"Pop…" He shook his head, his heart practically beating out of his chest. He knew it was a great opportunity, something that many, including his own brother, Masen, would kill for. And…and if he ever had a family…if _she_ ever…

He shut his eyes tight, trying desperately to push away the thought, to drown it…but there it was…

The next words were spoken by his mother, and…well, those were the ones that would do it if any could. He always knew those would be the ones.

"Edward…Sweetheart, there's one more thing you may want to consider." She now wrapped both of her warm hands around his, holding his gaze intently. "If you stay…you'll be home next summer and…and so will Bella. If you accept this opportunity…Darling, you can make something of yourself…for her…"

_For her._

Edward's stiff shoulders fell, and he opened his eyes.

"By when do I have to make a decision?"

OOOOOOOOOO

One day in late August, around the time Renee would've been hosting Bella's yearly birthday gala had she been here this summer, Carlisle placed a call to Phillip. Esme stood nervously next to him, and Masen and Rose sat together on the sofa.

Edward leaned against the wall stiffly as he tried to listen to both the radio that was on in the background and his father's telephone conversation.

"Philip, have you heard?" Edward heard Carlisle ask. His father listened for a couple of minutes.

"Yes, they're saying that London is already evacuating its citizens, and due to the treaty Churchill signed with Poland, if Hitler does invade-"

He paused, listening to whatever Philip was saying.

"That's what I'm worried about. Until we know exactly what's going to happen, and what that means for us here in the States, I don't feel comfortable with Alice so far-"

Again, he paused. "Yes, yes, that's exactly what I was thinking. I want Alice home as soon as possible."

Another pause, and Carlisle sighed deeply while Esme moved away from the earpiece and gave her husband an imploring look.

"Please, Carlisle. I don't want Alice traveling alone."

"We'd be grateful for the escort for her," Edward heard his father say stoically.

"What about Bella?" Edward asked as soon as his father hung up. "What are they doing to make sure she's safe?"

He no longer cared how anxious he sounded. He just needed to know she'd be safe.

"Philip and Renee are returning to New York immediately, and Bella will be escorted to New York as well."

Edward drew in a deep breath. Though Europe was thousands of miles away, the thought of Bella being by herself, with no one to protect her-

"Is her beau escorting her?" Rose asked. "He'll be on his way to training anyway."

"Rose!" Masen hissed.

"What?" Rose said, looking around the room, her eyes flashing to Edward before returning to Masen. "I…I…I mean after the way he acted last summer, I didn't think…"

She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to.

"Her beau?" Edward asked while the other four people in the room looked at one another.

"What beau?" he questioned. "_What beau_?" he repeated when no one answered.

"Alice has told us…" Esme said gently. "Bella's friend…Jacob…he's joining the service and…"

"Jacob?" Edward repeated, his lungs tightening so painfully it was hard to speak. "Jacob, her friend from Chicago?"

Again, no one answered, but it was written all over every face.

All summer he'd been dreaming of her…trying to find the words to apologize…trying to find a way to make everything work…

And she'd gone and found herself a beau in Chicago.

With all eyes on him, Edward sucked in a sharp breath of air while his lungs constricted and his hands fisted and unfisted at his sides. His mind conjured an image of his sweet Bella and some faceless man sitting on a porch, laughing, talking…

Kissing.

He swallowed thickly, dropping his head.

"Son, Philip is having a couple of his employees pick up Bella and escort her back to New York."

Edward nodded, and drawing in a deep breath, met his father's gaze.

"She'll be safe, correct?"

His father held his gaze. "Yes, Edward, she'll be safe."

"All right, then. All right." He tried to pull in another long breath of air, but it was as if his lungs had forgotten how to work.

"Excuse me," he said, and quickly stalked out of the house, hearing the porch door slam noisily against the frame.

Outside, Edward tried to remember how to breathe as he rested his forehead against the big, evergreen tree where Bella and Alice had played as little girls, where he himself had pushed them on the tire swing dozens of times while their legs kicked up high into the air, and they squealed and giggled hysterically.

He'd pushed and pushed…and apparently pushed her right into Jacob's arms – a man who was now enlisting…and most likely had no compunction about taking her kisses with him when he left.

"Edward?"

He half turned to see Carlisle standing behind him. And though he knew that his father was well aware of his feelings for Bella, he was grateful that there was absolutely no look of pity in his eyes. He wouldn't have been able to take his sympathy at that moment.

Instead, Carlisle seemed determined.

"Edward, before Philip leaves, he wants your decision on the scholarship." Carlisle squared his jaw and planted his feet firmly, an expression of impatience mixed with challenge marking his features. "Just what are you going to do, Son?"

Edward turned and fully faced his father.

The scholarship.

The scholarship that would delay his life-long plans, that would put an additional waiting period on what had always been his dream…what he'd always felt was his destiny. The scholarship that would make him and his family indebted to Dwyer; that would eventually make him an employee of Dwyer's. The scholarship he'd never asked for.

The scholarship that would allow him to better himself. That would turn him into someone with something to offer…something to offer someone who didn't seem to want anything from him any longer…

The scholarship that would keep him in place longer.

Bella would be back next summer; Philip had said as much in the mercantile. And when she returned, what would she find?

What would she still care about?

##########

"So did he decide to go to college and wait or not?" Skye (Olivia) asks.

"Man, never mind college; finding out about Jacob must've been like a kick in the balls," Olivia (Skye) says.

"Olivia!"

Ah, yes. I'm starting to see the differences between these twin girls; it's not so much physical as it is in the way they think. This makes me smile.

"Sorry, sorry," Olivia smirks quickly, "but seriously, Nana, I kinda feel sorry for him now. He's spent all summer thinking of you, and the war's coming, the opportunity he's been waiting for all his life, yet he may not even be able to go now – because of you!" she emphasizes. "And then he finds out that you've gone and gotten yourself another man!" she accuses. "A man that's going off to live his dream _and_ that has his girl now! Jeez, poor dude."

"Well, he's the one who screwed it all up the summer before," Skye suggests.

"But maybe Nana should've given him a chance to explain everything before she just up and left," Olivia retorts.

"Well maybe if he hadn't been such an ass to her, groping all over Jessica and laughing!"

"He didn't actually laugh; it was more of a snort! And I don't remember him actually copping a feel!"

"Now, now, Girls," I say. "The thing is, in the grand scheme of things, none of it ended up mattering. I mean, it mattered to us at the time, but with everything else that happened later on…"

"What happened, Nana?" Isabella asks.

"It was the beginning of the war," Leah murmurs quietly.

I sigh deeply.

"In late August, 1939, representatives from Britain, France and Germany met in Warsaw, Poland, to try to find a peaceful solution to the German dictator's demands for the Polish Corridor and for the city of Danzig. In the meantime, Alice was escorted home, as was I, with little time for goodbyes.

On September first, two weeks after that meeting where the German dictator _promised_ peace, the German _Luftwaffe_, their Air Force, invaded Poland, and all hell broke loose. Poland's allies - the U.K and France - declared war on Germany, followed soon after by Australia, India, New Zealand, South Africa &amp; Canada. In return, Nazi Germany declared war on all of Great Britain's allies, and then declared war on all Polish allies.

World War II had begun."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

*****I know you've all been missing Edward/Bella interaction, but I just had to show these bits about their summer apart. Next chapter is 1940 and…well, you'll see. :)*****

**AOI Playlist Song # 12:**

_**Stormy Weather**_** by Leo Reisman &amp; His Orchestra (1933)**

_**Don't know why  
There's no sun up in the sky  
Stormy weather  
Since my gal and I ain't together  
Keeps raining all the time**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	18. Chapter 17 - The Return of Summer

**A/N: Sorry for the late posting today, Guys. I had a hectic morning.**

**Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 Summer 1940 – The Return of Summer**

##########

"Nana, how would a war thousands of miles away affect you guys here at home?" Skye questions.

"Well…it was hard to see at first. Those initial months of the war were actually pretty quiet over in Europe, and here at home, we were admittedly more concerned with scaling our way out of the Depression."

"The Depression was still going on?" Olivia asks.

"Yes," I nod, "but there were signs that the economy was beginning to recover. Late that spring, Congress approved FDR's request for a huge loan to build airplanes, which of course meant more jobs. Over in the Dust Bowl section of the country, the land had been re-plowed, new trees had been planted, and more conservative farming methods had reduced the amount of dust blowing all over the land. And in late 1939, after eight, long years, the blessed rain finally came to the drought-stricken part of the country."

"Things were improving," Isabella smiles.

"Yes," I say again. "Late 1939 and early 1940 did appear to be a restorative, even somewhat prosperous time. For a short while there, we even forgot what was going on around us."

"But it didn't last," Leah smiles sadly.

"No," I shake my head. "No, it didn't last. In April of 1940, things began to change. That dictator in Germany must've gotten tired of cooling his heels and had his army invade Norway and Denmark. The following month, the _Luftwaffe_ unleashed a massive bombing attack over the Netherlands before moving on to Belgium, and with an offensive to the south as well, they soon had the French Army trapped between two forces. Meanwhile, British forces were pushed back towards the French port of Dunkirk and found themselves cornered with water flanking them on one side and the _Luftwaffe_ on the other. With no other choice, the British evacuated France, leaving that country to fight the mightiest war machine on Earth on its own."

"I wonder sometimes…" - my eyes scan the horizon – "had the Allies immediately realized just what sort of single-minded madness they were facing, had they been better prepared instead of fighting those first few months as if that war were just a continuation of the First World War…would it have changed anything? Would our boys here...would they stayed...safe?"

With a deep sigh for things that _can't_ be changed, I continue.

"And in mid-June of that same year, while those early battles raged on in Europe, an almost sixteen-year-old girl made her way through lush mountains and fields that were greener than ever - towards a destination she both loved…and dreaded. If you had asked me on that day back in 1940, as the _Union Builder_ noisily announced its final stop in Seattle, Washington, what had brought me back, I would've said I came back for Masen and Rose's wedding."

"If you ask me now, I'll tell you the truth:

I returned for him."

##########

Back in Forks, as much as that young lady may have been dreading her return to town, a young man, not quite eighteen, was having a hard time controlling his anxiety.

Up until the very last moment, he'd been afraid that she wouldn't return this year. But Alice had confirmed her best friend's travel plans, and as it was, he was pretty sure the only thing that had brought her back was the fact that Masen and Rose were getting married in a little over a week, and Bella was one of the bridesmaids.

So Bella was coming in early, earlier than she'd ever come actually, having skipped her stop in Chicago and any connection to…_him_, to Jacob: her beau.

Edward knew that Jacob was off in the service now, which relieved him and made him envious all at once. Alice constantly spoke about the friends she'd made in Chicago last summer; about girls that had taught her and Bella to dance and about boys that had gone off into the service.

Edward wondered how he could hate someone he'd never met so much. For all Edward knew - because Alice never came out and said it, and Edward never asked - Jacob was still Bella's beau.

But he'd deal with all that later. He'd figure it out afterwards because Bella was arriving today, and that was all on which he could focus. After almost two years, he'd be seeing Bella's pretty face and hearing her sweet giggles once more, and since he'd decided to go to college and postpone his enlistment, he'd hopefully have an opportunity to apologize to Bella properly, to rebuild their friendship, and to…

He sighed as he sat on the steps of the mercantile reading the daily paper while he waited for Masen, who was inside with Jasper picking up some items for the wedding. He had absolutely no idea what would happen this summer.

"What's going on in the world?" Masen asked, clapping Edward's shoulder and jerking his chin towards the paper in his hands. He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't hear them behind him.

"FDR signed a naval expansion act yesterday. It's supposed to increase the Navy's tonnage by 11 percent."

"Gettin' us ready, you think?" Jasper said.

Edward sighed. "Who knows? The French are over there holding on by a thread. Seems probable they'll be surrendering soon," he scowled.

All three men were quiet for a few seconds.

Masen grinned. "Hey Ed, Jasper, I want to thank you both for holding down the fort here, so to speak, while I was at college this year."

Edward and Jasper mumbled their responses.

"It's nothing."

"No big thing."

"It is something," Masen disagreed. And then clearing his throat to dispel the air of discomfort, he quickly said, "Jasper, go ahead and tell Edward 'bout what he just missed inside the mercantile."

Jasper chuckled. "Good thing you decided to wait out here. Your doll, Jessica, was in rare form today, yapping on and on about the wedding and still wondering why Rose didn't pick her to be a bridesmaid instead of picking a girl who's only here two months out of the year."

Edward's jaw clenched tight.

"Then while Mike went to the stockroom for an eternity," Jasper continued, "she started saying that the only reason you're going to college in the fall is so that you can meet them college girls who look and act like men, with their useless educations and jobs."

Edward shook his head in disgust. "What'd you tell her?"

"I told her that if you wanted to look at girls who looked like men, you would've come inside the store with us. That got me a lantern thrown to the head - barely missed too. So then I told her she should be working at the mill with that muscular arm, and we ran out here before she could find something else to throw."

All three young men burst out laughing, and as their snickers died down, the three of them spotted one of the most beautiful sights they'd ever seen strolling down the road.

Masen whistled low through his teeth. "Now that is a beauty!"

"Look at that shape!" Jasper added.

"And that top," Edward murmured.

They were fascinated by the sight: sleek and gorgeous, with a tan-colored top that looked like it would flip down at the touch of a button –

The beauty suddenly stopped right in front of them, and out stepped none other than Peter Vanderneck.

Peter shook hands with Masen and Jasper, while he and Edward seemed to silently agree to limit their mutual acknowledgment to a slight nod.

"How was your first year of university?" Peter asked Masen.

"Not too bad," Masen nodded.

"Looking forward to that wedding?" Peter grinned.

And while Masen confirmed that yes, he certainly was, Edward turned his face and rolled his eyes, still harboring some resentment towards Esme for refusing to listen when he told her that it wasn't actually necessary to invite Peter Vanderneck to Masen's wedding – even if he was going to be in town that week.

They made some more small talk, and Peter droned on about how he'd completed two years in some fancy business school in Pennsylvania and only had two more years to go, after which he expected to be working at Dwyer Enterprises.

"Edward," Peter said, "I hear you'll be starting college in the fall?"

Edward merely nodded, and Peter bobbed his head obligingly.

"A Dwyer scholarship and an internship as well; not a bad deal."

Now here was another man he basically hated; possibly even more than he hated the unknown Jacob.

Again, Edward barely nodded in response.

"Good luck," Peter said. "Perhaps if you do well, you'll end up working for me someday."

And apparently, the hatred had always gone both ways.

"Perhaps," Edward conceded with a grin. "You'll be the fat ass sitting behind a desk pushing pencils, and I'll be the one doing the real work."

"Crap," Jasper muttered under his breath.

"Say, where'd you get that beauty?" Masen asked quickly and none too inconspicuously while Peter glared at Edward, who returned the glare and crossed his arms smugly when the other was the first to break eye contact.

"I got her last year from my father for my eighteenth birthday," Peter answered Masen, "but she's been in storage. Had no reason to take her out last year, but this summer…"

Jasper leaned up against the car, stroking and petting it like he was ready to sign a marriage contract with the damn thing. "Have you taken her for a long ride yet?"

"Not really," Peter said. "She rode over here on Dwyer's railroad, but I'm actually taking her for a long ride now."

"Oh yeah? Where you headed?" Masen asked.

"I'm heading down to Seattle to pick up Isabella."

There was a very obvious silence after this comment, and Edward couldn't even stop himself.

"_You're_ going to pick up Bella?" he growled.

Peter slowly and very purposely turned his eyes away from his car and towards Edward.

"Yes, _I_ am," he said. "Mrs. Dwyer has asked me to do the family the favor." He looked up at the grey sky, grinning widely. "Looks like it's going to be a cool, rainy day, but I'm looking forward to the long ride. Besides, it's a win-win situation all around: I get to pick up Isabella _and_ make the Dwyers' happy. You know how that goes, right, Edward?"

Edward's nostrils flared. "What? Ass kissing? No, can't say that I do know. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Both men rushed towards each other then, Edward's hands balling into fists, but Masen and Jasper managed to get in between the two of them.

"Hey, hey, hey, I've got a better idea. Why don't you show us around this beauty some instead?" Masen suggested. "In the meantime, Ed, I think I forgot a couple of wedding things in the store that Mama'll have my head over if I arrive home without. Why don't you go in there and pick 'em up for me?"

Edward jaw was clenched so tight he wasn't sure his teeth wouldn't break. His chest heaved with the effort it took not to push his brother and friend out of the way and rip off Peter's head.

Shutting his eyes, he turned away before he could do something he may or may not have regretted. And trying to calm his rioting mind, he stalked into the store, damning Peter and his fancy car, damning Jacob for having what could've been his had he not been so stupid, and damning Renee Dwyer for everything except giving birth.

OOOOOOOOOO

Five minutes later, Edward walked out of the store in a worse mood than he'd walked in and ready to start or finish something with Peter Vanderneck, but he paused when he found Peter, Masen and Jasper bent over the open hood of the car.

"I don't understand," Peter moaned angrily. "It was driving fine! You saw it was driving fine!"

"You sure you got enough gasoline in it?" Jasper asked.

"Do I look like an idiot? Of course it's got gasoline!" Peter yelled.

"You sure this ain't an old engine here?" Masen asked.

"Does this look like an old engine? Of course it's not!"

"It really is the darnedest thing," Masen murmured, shaking his head, a completely stupefied expression on his face. He looked up and saw Edward standing there.

"Hey, Edward, why don't you do us a favor and drive home and get Pop, see if he can help us figure out what's going on with this here car."

"Your father knows about cars?" Peter asked Masen suspiciously.

"Of course he does!" Masen responded, straight-faced as can be. "He used to be a mechanic during the war. Go on, Ed, hurry it up."

"Yeah. All right."

"Don't take long, Edward," Peter said, suddenly looking so anxious that Edward _almost_ felt sorry for him. "No matter what, I'm sure neither one of us wants Isabella waiting at the station."

"No. No, you're right. Neither one of us wants that."

So with his heart racing in his chest, Edward calmly got into his Pop's old Ford and turned the key while he watched Jasper and Masen put on their show – a pretty overdone one if anyone had asked him; tweaking this and twisting that, moving parts here and adjusting parts there.

Masen looked up at Edward and grinned.

When he was finally on the road and out of view, Edward drew in a deep breath and chuckled.

Damn that brother and best friend of his too.

##########

Olivia chuckles heartily. "Sounds like the copper-haired young man and his boys were sneaky fuckers."

"Olivia!" Isabella screeches.

"Sorry," Olivia laughs.

"Seriously though," Skye says, "the rich boy wasn't very bright if he didn't realize he was being played."

"I think…he just hadn't realized how far the copper-haired young man would go for me. I don't think he really got that until…well, until much later."

##########

In his father's old Ford, it took Edward over three hours to get to Seattle. With his pulse racing, he removed his cap and rushed into the train station, pausing for a couple of seconds to take in the amount of people bustling about to and fro and wondering how he was going to find such a tiny thing in the middle of all this.

Quickly finding the arrivals board, he saw that the train from Chicago had arrived fifteen minutes ago.

"Damn."

His head pivoted about, searching for the number "3" platform, and he sprinted towards it, taking the steps down two and three at a time while his heart beat out a painful rhythm.

The entire way to Seattle, he'd been too preoccupied with speeding and hadn't allowed himself to think of what he was doing or of what he'd say once he saw her.

Now that he was here, he couldn't ignore it.

He was about to see Bella. After two years, he was about to see his sweet, young girl.

Halfway down the steps, Edward saw the train at the platform, steam still billowing like clouds all around it. Men, women and children stepped on and off, some walking along confidently, others looking around in awe; some greeting husbands, wives and other loved ones, some all alone.

His eyes scanned the area, spotting men in business suits and women in their best dresses and hats as he strained his neck looking for her pretty face. He took the remaining steps down slowly, head moving from side to side, searching. On first sight, there were a few young girls who vaguely fit the mental image he had from when he'd last seen Bella a couple of summers ago. But upon closer examination, he'd find that some were thin, but perhaps too thin. Some had her dark hair yet lacked her brilliance. Some had similar eye color, but her eyes had always been more golden than brown.

As the seconds passed without sign of her, his anxiety escalated.

What if he was too late, if she'd already been picked up?

What if Peter had gotten his car sorted out or if they'd somehow gotten word to Felix, the Dwyer's driver, and he'd beaten Edward here?

What if…Jesus, what if she hadn't been on the train?

What if she'd gone to Chicago after all and decided not to come?

What if she never came back to Forks again?

Edward swallowed thickly, his eyes still sweeping the platform even as his hand patted his back pocket, searching for his wallet. He was pretty sure he had enough to buy a ticket to Chicago.

It was as he felt the thin wad that was his wallet that he spotted the young woman a few feet away.

She sat on her trunk, a large suitcase to her side along with three toiletry cases stacked over the suitcase. Though she had her face turned away from him, Edward could tell that she was scanning the platform. His eyes took in the elegant two-piece suit she wore, the perfectly tailored jacket as well as the skirt fitted to her knees, under which shapely legs were covered by thin nylons and attractive calves were crossed while one black, heel-covered foot bounced up and down. The wide-brimmed hat shielded the top of her head, but he could see dark, silky hair falling in loose curls to just below her lightly-padded shoulders. Pristine, white gloves covered delicate-looking hands.

And as everyone buzzed around her - men and women alike searching for their own loved ones or boarding the train - Edward stood frozen to his spot. Those that passed her stole second glances because she stood out like a vision with the kind of refinement and grace one didn't just see every day. Even from where he stood, Edward could see that much.

Then slowly, as if she could feel his eyes on her, the young woman turned and tilted her head, revealing first one and then a pair of bright, golden eyes from under the wide brim of her hat.

Every breath of air in Edward's lungs left him.

Her shapely mouth was a deep red color, contrasting beautifully with her alabaster skin and somehow bringing out the amber in her eyes the way a few weeks of sun had always done, making them glow like golden fire in the middle of her perfect skin. Her eyes had always been like two golden orbs set in the face of an angel, but now…

Now they were set in the face of a goddess.

It wasn't until a half-minute later that he realized he'd gotten so lost in them that he hadn't even felt himself moving. He was suddenly a mere handful of inches from her.

"Bella…you…cut your hair…"

It was a stupid thing to say, yes, but his mind and mouth were obviously not working in sync.

She held his gaze, touching the tips of her hair with the tips of her fingers, biting her lip the way he'd always seen her do when she was nervous – or upset.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked.

"I uh…" He cleared his throat, his fingers rolling his cap around and around. "I came to pick you up."

The gorgeous creature before him frowned.

"Mother telegrammed that Peter would be picking me up."

A sliver of indignation coursed through him, followed closely behind by an ache of jealousy so bad he had to keep from visibly cringing.

Yet at the same time, hearing her voice was like listening to a choir of angels. It was almost as he remembered it except…older…more mature…

Sensual.

"I apologize," he said, swallowing thickly, "but it looks like you're stuck with me."

She held his gaze, and silently, they both studied one another.

"Ms. Dwyer, shall I take your luggage to your father's car?" asked a nearby porter dressed in a tuxedo.

"No! No," Edward answered for her quickly. "I've got it."

"Are you sure?" Bella asked, moving aside so that Edward could get to her luggage. "The trunk may be kind…of…heavy."

Edward replaced his cap and grabbed her toiletry bags and the suitcase in one hand while doing his best to grab the trunk from the handle and heave it up to a standing position without dropping everything in his other arm – all while the porter stood around, watching and waiting.

"Are you sure you don't need help, Sir?"

"I've got it, thanks," Edward repeated in a strained voice - just as the suitcase crashed to the floor.

Followed by the toiletry bags.

"Damn," Edward muttered, feeling his face burn. Still holding the trunk, he bent down and picked up the suitcase, holding it under his arm while he tried to retrieve the toiletry bags.

Bella quickly picked them up, handing him one and keeping the others. She smiled at him sheepishly.

"I'll carry these."

Again, Edward was struck mute and immobile.

The porter cleared his throat. "Ms. Dwyer, I can bring a cart if you'd prefer."

"It'll be fine, thanks," Edward assured him yet again - though he knew his performance wasn't actually confirming that assurance.

"We've got it. Thank you so much for your help," Bella said, turning her beautiful smile to the porter. She then discreetly took the porter's gloved hand and stuck something inside his palm.

"Thank _you_ so much," the porter said, grinning widely. "Have a pleasant trip, Ms. Dwyer, and please give your father our best."

"Thank you, I will," she said softly.

Once the porter left them, Edward and Bella once again stood around awkwardly. She bit her lip once more, her eyes shifting from him to her luggage. He was making her uncomfortable. Swallowing, he forced himself to stop staring like a jack-ass.

"After you," he signaled with his chin, smiling shakily.

"Thank you."

When she walked ahead of him, Edward couldn't help but notice the hourglass shape under the suit.

"Damn," he chastised himself silently. "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, dropping his gaze.

Outside, a dense fog permeated the air. Thick, heavy drops had begun to fall from the dark, grey sky, pounding over Edward in tune with his wildly beating heart.

"Darn it, I'm so sorry; I forgot to bring an umbrella," he apologized profusely, falling in step with Bella.

She simply chuckled. "That's fine. I'm not the Wicked Witch; I won't melt in the rain."

Edward could only stare at her again.

She held his gaze uncomfortably for one long moment before looking away.

Once more, Edward silently chastised himself for making her uncomfortable.

"Uhm…I should've given the porter some money. I…I completely forgot..."

Bella shook her head, reaching out with one gloved hand as if to touch him. Edward held his breath, but then she quickly drew her hand back.

"No, that's fine. Papa Phil sent me money for all the porters and their assistance. Mrs. Cope usually handles the tipping, but as I insisted I didn't need a chaperone anymore…"

She flashed him a smile, so achingly familiar it physically hurt yet so different that he was once more in danger of being frozen stupidly to his spot.

"Here's the car," he murmured, and then he did cringe when he dropped the trunk and it pounded loudly over the concrete floor.

"Hope there's nothing fragile in there," he chuckled spastically.

Bella shook her head, and when she grinned, Edward swore his heart would burst at her loveliness.

"No, there isn't," she assured him.

Quickly moving to open the door for her, he took her gloved hand in his, his skin burning even with that little contact, and helped her into the passenger seat, closing the door firmly yet carefully behind her. Then he stuck all her luggage in the trunk, all the while bewildered by the change in her. She was so full of poise and grace, like one of those princesses they wrote of in the papers.

She'd been barely a teenager last time he'd seen her, and now…

Now, Edward had no idea how he was going to survive the ride back to Forks with the beautiful, young woman he'd just picked up.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**WTF? She ended it there?**

**Listen to me, Guys, the next part was just too long to include here, I swear! Thursday is right around the corner. :)**

**AOI Playlist Song #19: **

**_You Stepped Out of a Dream_**** (1940) – Lyrics by Gus Kahn, Music by Nacio Herb Brown and covered by Ella Fitzgerald, Glen Miller, and too many other artists to list:**

**_You stepped out of a dream_**_**  
**_**_You are too wonderful to be what you seem_**_**  
**_**_Could there be eyes like yours? Could there be lips like yours?_**_**  
**_**_Could there be smiles like yours, honest and truly?_**

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**See you guys on Thursday!**


	19. Chapter 18 - The Ride to Forks

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I read and appreciate them all, and though I don't always have time to respond, I hope you all know how much they mean to me. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Summer 1940 - The Ride to Forks**

##########

"You'd blossomed, Nana!" Skye exclaims, and the obvious note of pride in her voice makes me smile.

"I suppose I had. Mother was an undeniable beauty, and I…I turned out very much like her. Anyhow, yes I'd developed all those curves that had alluded me for years. It may not look like it now," I grin, "but in my youth, I had generous hips and a small waist, and though my breasts never did quite rival Jessica's, they were very firm and pleasant," I assure them, cradling my now saggy décolletage.

Leah, Isabella and the girls giggle.

"Boy, the copper-haired young man must've been licking his chops," Olivia laughs. "Did he jump you on the car ride back to Forks?"

"Olivia!" Isabella reprimands for about the umpteenth time, but I merely chuckle.

"Well, perhaps not quite…jump me…" I smirk, "but let me tell you about his thoughts on the ride back to Forks…"

##########

With the luggage secured in the back, Edward climbed into the driver's seat, drawing in a deep, badly-needed breath through narrowed lips. The beauty next to him removed her hat and rested it on her lap, shaking out perfect curls, which sent a waft of the most intoxicating scent swirling throughout the car. It was something sweet and clean, something he hadn't smelled in the past two years…something he hadn't until this moment even realized was the fresh and flawless scent of Bella's skin.

"God help me," he murmured.

"Excuse me?" Bella asked, turning big, golden eyes his way. Without her hat, he could see the full shine and silkiness of her hair. It had always been such a pretty head of hair, but now, it was an absolute halo.

"No, nothing," he answered quickly, shaking his head in a way that probably made him look insane.

"Edward, is everything all right?"

"Yeah! Yes," he answered, swallowing back his nerves. "Everything is just fine."

"Okay."

Once again, they held each other's gaze, and yet again, Edward found himself lost in those golden eyes, in that beautiful face, in those red, red lips...

Her eyes flashed between him and the steering wheel. "I suppose we should be on our way before the rain gets any worse."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we should get going before it gets worse." Yet he still couldn't quite manage to turn away from her.

She smiled gently. "Ready whenever you are."

The next few minutes, as they made their way out of the vicinity of the bustling Seattle terminal, were awkwardly silent. Bella stared out of the passenger-side window while Edward gripped onto the steering wheel with both hands, trying to regulate his breathing while attempting to remember everything he'd wanted to say to her for the past two years. He was just beginning to get his words together when he heard her sweet voice.

"How is Sandy?"

"Sandy? Sandy's just fine, Bella. She's great. Pop changed her diet a bit. You know she's getting a bit older now, and he thinks it'll be easier for her to digest this new food he's come up with for her."

"Yes, Alice did tell me about that. Your father is so wonderful. You're all wonderful for watching Sandy for me for so long. I'm really very grateful."

He only nodded because thinking of how long they'd watched Sandy made him think about last summer without her. And thinking about last summer without her made him think of where she'd been last summer. And thinking of where she'd been last summer…reminded him of her beau…Jacob.

It was an opening though, an opening to one of the many things he needed to say to her.

"And how is everyone else?" she asked before he could work up his nerve.

"Everyone else is just fine." He swallowed. "Bella, I want to-"

"How are you-"

They both chuckled.

"Go ahead," he prompted.

"I was just going to ask how you've been."

"I've been…" – he inhaled unevenly, "I've been okay."

"That's very good. You're done with high school." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a hint of her sweet smile as well as the way her gloved hands were knit together over her lap.

"Yes, I am," he said, returning her smile with one of his own.

"Congratulations. And…I hear you'll be going to college."

"That's the plan."

"That's very good news. I'm sure your parents are happy about that."

He nodded.

It was strange. She was everything that was well-mannered yet so reserved and formal. This wasn't the Bella he remembered: the one he'd grown up with, the one he'd chased around the river for years, the one he'd taught to fish, the pretty, little girl he'd teased mercilessly, and who'd teased him back with just as much fire.

This wasn't the little woodland nymph who'd looked up at him through big, innocent eyes one warm, summer evening and confessed to wanting to kiss him.

There was another long moment of silence.

"How have _you_ been, Bella?"

"I've been well, thank you," she responded very properly, turning to face forward while the protective, resentful and green-eyed part of him itched so badly to ask her to expand on that; to tell him about her previous summer.

About Jacob.

But he had no rights here; he knew that, so instead, he said,

"It's been a while since we've seen each other."

"Yes, it has," she responded in that friendly yet detached tone that was beginning to really bother him.

"Almost two years. You've…changed a lot."

Out of his periphery, he saw her nod once before dropping her eyes, and when he risked a side-glance in her direction, he wanted to kick himself. Her cheeks were flaming red, and she was biting her lip once more. He could only imagine what she was thinking - most probably remembering what he'd done the last time they'd been together.

He drew in a lungful of air. "Bella, I've been wanting to-"

"You haven't explained why you were at the terminal instead of Peter."

As fixated as his attention was on the young woman next to him, it took him a couple of seconds to figure out where Peter came into any of this.

"Peter? Oh, yeah, Peter. Well…uh…the truth is that…Peter's car broke down."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and…I was sort of around when it happened, so I said I'd be happy to come get you."

All the while he told his story, he knew he was getting himself in deeper trouble once she got the real scoop, but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less about Peter or his car.

"Well, that was very kind of you then. Thank you."

"No problem."

What followed was the longest stretch of silence yet while Edward did his best to focus on the road and simultaneously try to figure out how to start the conversation he'd been waiting to have with her for almost two years. It wasn't easy though; her fragrant scent permeated the air all around him, and he was keenly aware of her every movement inside the confines of the car. Every time she shifted, he imagined her shoulder brushing against his. Every time she sighed, he imagined her breath on him.

He finally shook his head, trying to rid it of wayward thoughts.

"So…how was school this year, Bella?"

"It was very interesting; thank you for asking. And how was-"

He sighed; impatient with himself more than anything else. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Be so darn formal with me. Say thank you after absolutely everything you say. We're not strangers."

He scowled at the windshield, pretty sure she didn't speak to Jacob with so much cool politeness.

"We're not strangers, but it's been a while since we've seen each other and…and that's how I've been brought up. I apologize."

"Don't do that either," he snapped, imagining the easy and laid-back conversations they used to share and how she probably now shared those with Jacob. He wondered if she wrote to Jacob wherever he was serving. It sent a sharp stab of pain through his chest to imagine what she said to him in those letters.

"Don't do what?"

"Apologize all the time."

She didn't respond, but he could feel her eyes on him.

"What?" he asked warily.

"Nothing."

Another glance in her direction revealed her shaking her head, sweet, little nostrils flaring.

"You want to say something."

"I think I'd better not. It seems you have a problem with everything I say."

"No, no." He sighed. Jesus, what was he doing? "That's not what I meant, Bella. I-"

"You have always corrected me, Edward, whether it be my facts or my grammar, and now it's my excessive manners. I was always the little girl, and you were always the one who knew best, and apparently, that hasn't changed."

Edward had no idea how he'd managed to mess this up already when he hadn't even gotten to any of the things he needed to say.

"Bella…"

And all of the words were just right there on the tip of his tongue: all the apologies he owed her, his confessions, his fears, his wishes...even his hopes.

"Edward, I'm really very tired. I've been on the train for five days, and no matter how comfortable the accommodations, it was a long ride. Would you mind if I just closed my eyes for a while?"

The rush of adrenaline that had abruptly coursed through him now fell flat.

"Of course I don't mind," he told her gently, cursing his stupidity and thoughtlessness. And cowardice. "I didn't mean to upset you when you've had such a long…" he exhaled. "Just rest, Bella. We'll be home soon."

OOOOOOOOOOO

The rain pattered quietly over the roof of Carlisle's car. Edward let the rhythmic sound soothe his frazzled nerves while the windshield wipers' back and forth motion kept his eyes centered on the road.

Beside him, Bella was asleep. In the past hour and a half, he'd snuck more than a few peeks in her direction. Her head was pushed back against the headrest, her long hair falling over her shoulders and shielding part of her beautiful face from his view. Unable to see much of her face whenever he looked over, his eyes had at one point instinctively dipped lower, where he'd noted how her chest rose and fell evenly in her slumber.

That was when he'd realized that he was staring at her chest.

He shut his eyes tight for two seconds, groaning quietly before bringing his eyes back to the windshield and fighting the cad inside begging him to sneak another peek.

Yet it was as if he had absolutely no control over that cad because his eyes had trailed back to her sleeping form and taken inventory of all the physical changes that had occurred in the past couple of years.

And there were a few.

Bella was still slim, but there were those undeniable curves he'd seen a hint of back at the train station, curves that had developed in places where there had never been curves before. Still petite, her legs were undeniably shapely and led to perfect hips and a narrow waist that his eyes followed up to breasts that were small yet plump and round. Her long neck led to full lips that were beautifully puckered and-

A horn honked, and Edward quickly moved his eyes to the front of the car, realizing that he'd wandered into the wrong lane. Righting the car hastily, his heart almost jumped out of his chest and he swore a low oath under his breath.

After that, he made sure to keep his eyes on the road.

OOOOOOOOOO

Bella finally awoke when they were about a half hour from the Dwyer Mansion.

Side-eyeing her, he watched her lift her head somewhat groggily, looking around to reacquaint herself with their location.

"We're almost there. I'm sorry I slept so long."

"Bella…"

"I mean- I'm not sorry." She sighed tiredly.

And that was about as much as Edward could take.

With a deep breath meant, he stepped on the break and pulled the car off the road, just to the side where the forest encroached onto the concrete.

"Why did you stop?" Bella questioned, scanning the area around her.

Swallowing thickly, Edward angled in his seat sideways to face her fully and regretted it almost immediately. There was no way he'd be able to form a coherent sentence this way. She was like a film star - Jean Harlow or Ginger Rogers. Maybe Judy Garland. Better yet, a dark-haired Veronica Lake.

No. No, none of those were right.

There was absolutely no one who could compare.

"Bella, there's something I've been needing to tell you face to face…for a while now. And I can't drive while I say it."

Her beautiful eyes widened, long lashes blinking curiously. "What is it?"

"I want to say I'm sorry."

And then it all came out in a rush.

"I'm so, so sorry, Bella, for what happened two years ago at your birthday party. I never meant to- I mean, I should've never- It wasn't because I found it funny, I just didn't know how to-"

"Edward, you already apologized-"

"No, wait, listen. I never meant to laugh at you. I never meant to hurt you. It's never been what I wanted, but I wasn't thinking, and I…"

She eyed him warily.

"I _hate_ this awkwardness between us," he hissed. "I hate that I obviously make you uncomfortable, that there's a wall that feels like it's right here." He motioned with his hand, moving it up and down stiffly.

He wasn't doing this right; he knew he wasn't. Taking another breath, he willed his mouth to stop rambling and held her gaze, his eyes begging her to understand. And when she reached out and rested her gloved hand lightly on his shoulder, he allowed himself to hope that she did.

"Is this what you've been needing to tell me for a while?"

"Well…yeah." Mostly, but he needed to get through this before he could even begin to delve into the heavier stuff.

Bella dropped her hand, leaving his skin cold where she'd just been touching him. She looked down at her lap.

"You did apologize once, Edward," she said quietly, "and I told you it was all forgotten."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"And I've been wanting to tell you something for a long while as well." With her own deep breath, she looked back up at him, and his lungs constricted.

"What is it?"

"You were right," she breathed.

"Right about what?"

She held his gaze. "When you said that I was young and...that it would be better for us to be friends than to ruin things by…anyway, I don't want things to be awkward between us either, Edward. We were good friends for a long time, and I don't want to lose that. You said things would go back to normal and…that's what I want."

For a long while, he could only stare at her.

"So…you want to go back to being good friends," he restated for clarification.

"Yes. I don't want things to be awkward and uncomfortable between us."

Edward felt as if his head would explode.

"Bella, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable, but-"

"Good, then we can pretend it never happened."

"Pretend _what_ never happened?"

"Everything. None of it," she said, sounding exasperated all of a sudden. "May we go now? I really am very tired."

"What? No! No. Bella, I swear I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I _can't_ pretend." He drew in a sharp breath of air and exhaled it heavily. "What I want is…I want…I want to tell you that I'm…"

He had to look away then because he couldn't even hold her gaze for long without feeling dazed, without it taking herculean effort just to organize his thoughts. There was so much he'd wanted to say for so long, and now here she was, and he couldn't even form a damned sensible sentence. Throughout the entire car ride, he'd been struck mute, dumb, stupid and everything in between.

When he brought his eyes back to her once more, he saw that the sun had come out and was now shining its light on her face, making her glow like an angel, and something hit him.

He'd forgotten. He really had.

He'd absolutely forgotten that she'd never been merely pretty; she'd always been way beyond that. He'd forgotten how she always brought the sun with her, and now that she was older…now…she wasn't just bringing the sun…

Bella was the sun.

With a sudden surge of courage, he picked up one of the small hands she had folded neatly on her lap and wrapped it between both of his own.

Bella gasped.

She'd just told him that she wanted things to go back to the way they were. Maybe she didn't want him anymore. Maybe her heart was already claimed, and now, he'd be the one to end up broken-hearted, and God knew he'd deserve it, but damn it, she'd been brave enough to put herself and her heart out there when she'd been barely thirteen; he had to be brave enough now.

"Bella," he smiled, instinct guiding him closer to her, and he thought that perhaps, she was moving in closer as well, "what I've been wanting to tell you is that…"

"You want to tell me what?" she breathed, her golden eyes searching his.

The loud and sudden honk of a car horn startled them both, causing Edward to drop Bella's hand and Bella to back away. He looked up just in time to see Peter slam the door to his shiny, black convertible and stalk towards them while another car pulled over behind his. In that car, Edward could see Felix at the wheel.

With a long groan, Edward moved back against his seat and reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me for a minute," he told a bewildered-looking Bella.

Peter reached him before he'd had time to take more than two steps, angrily digging a finger into Edward's chest.

"If I ever find a way to prove that you were responsible for messing with my car…" he hissed, his face a mere couple of inches from Edward's.

"I was in the store," Edward chuckled, digging his own hands deep inside his pockets to keep himself from doing something stupid right there in front of Bella.

"You, your brother and your friend all think you're so slick," Peter scowled.

Edward shrugged. "I just thought it would make more sense if I made sure that Bella didn't have to end up waiting."

"It was _my_ job to pick her up!" Peter seethed, digging that same finger into his own chest now.

"Well, you did say I'd end up being your assistant," Edward smirked.

"Why you-"

"Gentlemen!"

Phil approached and stood between them in much the same way that Masen had done so earlier. "It's wonderful to see that you were both able to work together to make sure that Isabella arrived safe, sound and on time. It speaks well of your team skills."

Edward grinned, knowing that Peter was trapped now. Any other stupid comment he made would completely work against those "team skills" Phil had just mentioned. It wasn't until he spotted Renee Dwyer stepping out of the Dwyer car that the grin on his face faltered.

Stalking towards him angrily, she wrapped her fur stole tightly around her shoulders.

"How dare you pick up my daughter without my permission!"

With as much respect as he could muster, Edward turned to Renee.

"Mrs. Dwyer, I heard Peter here say that his car wasn't working, and I didn't think it would be fitting for Bella to wait for hours and hours-"

"You should have informed us, and we would've had Felix go pick her up!" Renee hissed.

Edward bounced on his toes, his hands still deep in his pockets. "I apologize if I caused any inconvenience. My pop's car was there and ready, and well, I just figured this would be quicker."

"And how did you know-"

"Renee, Darling," Philip said, cutting off his wife, "I believe we should be thanking young Edward here for his industriousness and for taking the time and the initiative to pick up our daughter, rather than disparaging him for it."

"Mother, it's so wonderful to see you!"

Edward turned around and watched Bella walk towards them, a forced smile gracing her beautiful face as she approached her mother.

"Oh, well hello, Isabella Darling." She gave Bella a light kiss, holding her fur stole in place to make sure it didn't slide off as she wrapped an arm around Bella's shoulder.

Then Bella turned to her stepfather, and both hugged with what to Edward appeared to be much more tenderness.

"Papa Phil," Bella said, then she pulled away and turned to Peter.

"Peter," she smiled while Edward held his breath, waiting to see how Bella would greet _him_. After all, she hadn't offered Edward more than a smile at the train station.

When she only held out a hand to Peter, Edward grinned – until Peter took her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Thank you so much for offering to pick me up. Edward did inform me that your car had some issues, and though you couldn't make it, I'm still quite grateful."

Peter grinned, still holding Bella's hand – the same hand that Edward had wrapped in his just a few minutes ago.

"To make up for it, I would be honored if you'd allow me to escort you back to Seattle upon your return."

And as Edward held his breath for about the twentieth time that day, Bella chuckled sweetly.

"Thank you, Peter, but being as I just arrived, perhaps we shouldn't dwell on my departure just yet."

She smiled at him teasingly, and though he tried to disguise it with an awkward snort, Edward could tell that Peter wasn't pleased with her response.

"Then perhaps you'll let me drive you the rest of the way back to the house so that Edward doesn't have to go out of his way any more than he already has?"

The sneaky bastard.

"It wouldn't be an inconvenience at all," Edward said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, but you've done more than enough today," Peter said.

"I don't think I have," Edward hissed.

Bella looked between him and Peter. "I…uhm…"

"Isabella, you'll ride with me," Renee abruptly said. "It'll give us a chance to catch up." And then with a smile to Peter, she added, "Peter, let's just get back to the house. You and Isabella can catch up once we're there."

Edward locked his jaw to keep from yelling, his throat tightening so badly he could barely manage to swallow as he watched Bella walk away. It took every ounce of self-control that he possessed not to lunge for her.

He'd been so close…so close to telling her everything, and now…

Damn Peter and his rotten timing to hell.

So instead, he stood there stonily as Philip clapped his shoulder and spoke some words of appreciation. He watched Felix remove Bella's luggage from Carlisle's car, reminding himself that it would do no good to grab Bella and drive off with her. And when Bella suddenly stopped and turned around, Edward had a crazy vision of her running to him, throwing herself in his arms while everyone else be damned.

She met his gaze with a fire that took his breath away, the type of fire that he hadn't seen in her eyes in…well, in almost two years.

"I don't want to offend you with too much gratitude," she grinned mischievously, "but thanks for picking me up. I'm glad we had a chance to talk…though I do hope we can finish our conversation at some point?"

Edward had no idea whether everyone could see the way he drew in a few uneven breaths, the way he was totally and completely at Bella's mercy. He didn't care if they did.

"You can count on it," he grinned. She turned back around.

"Bella!" he called. "Should I tell Sandy that you'll be by later?"

This time, when she turned around, she gifted him with a grin that stopped his heart. "Of course, Edward. She still is _my_ dog, isn't she?"

And just like that, he saw the old Bella: the little, impish child. She was dressed differently, more like a young woman of her class and station, but she was still in there.

She was still his little…no…no, that wasn't right.

She was his _girl_ – even if she didn't know it yet.

"She's still yours, Bella. She'll always be yours. True and loyal hearts never forget, remember?"

"I remember," she nodded quietly before turning back around and resuming her walk. Peter was quickly at her side, helping her and her mother into Philip's car. Edward could hear Renee fawning all over him, even as he shut the door behind her, and once it was closed, he looked back at Edward with a smug grin.

Edward held his gaze coolly until Peter walked off to his car, and then he turned back to his own, already planning what he'd say to Bella the next time they were alone. He'd do it right next time. He'd untie his tongue and-

At that moment, he caught Renee's eye just as they were driving off. With one, quick glance, she managed to communicate what she thought of him, and as the car passed him, her cold glare held a clear warning.

Holding her gaze, Edward tipped his cap to her and returned to his father's car where Bella's clean scent still wafted all around him. He looked over at the passenger seat where she'd sat until just a few minutes ago and picked up the wide-brimmed hat she'd left behind.

Edward didn't need Renee Dwyer's hard glares to know that he didn't deserve Bella. Chances were, she didn't even want him anymore. She'd been barely thirteen for God's sakes when she'd first wanted his kisses.

More than likely, she'd already received her first kisses and had no interest in his.

Yet…none of that mattered.

To hell with Jacob.

To hell with Peter.

To hell with Renee Dwyer, and to any other person, man or woman who tried to stand in his way this summer.

He was a selfish being, and whether he deserved her or not, he knew now that he wouldn't be able to rest until she knew what was in his heart, and then…

Well, then the rest would be up to her.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Ooh! So close! Don't worry, my lovelies. I think you'll very much like next week's updates. ;)**

**AOI Playlist Song #20:**

_**Only Forever**_** (1940) by Bing Crosby:**

_**How long would it take me**_

_**To be near if you beckoned?**_

_**Off hand I would figure**_

_**Less than a second. **_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend! See you all on Monday!**


	20. Chapter 19 - The Woodland Nymph

**A/N: Much continued thanks and love for all your thoughts.**

**I'm posting earlier than usual today because I'm taking my little girl for her braces this morning. Poor thing has no idea how much pain she'll be in soon. **

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Summer 1940 – The Woodland Nymph**

##########

"Ooh, the copper-haired young man got seriously cock-blocked there!" Olivia declares.

At this point, Isabella simply drops her head and shakes it from side to side. "Once again, Nana, I apologize for my daughter's language."

"Sweetheart," I chuckle, "every generation has its own, unique way of expressing itself, and while I'm not...exactly sure what "cock-blocked" means, from the context, I'd say it's a pretty accurate description."

The twins laugh heartily. "Trust us, Nana, it is."

"Would you have let him kiss you, Nana," Skye questions, "had the rich boy not shown up and interrupted your talk? I mean, you did realize that's what he'd been about to do, didn't you?"

"To tell you the truth," I say with a smile, "I'm not really sure what I was thinking at that point. Under normal circumstances, that would've been the assumption, yes, but my mind was in a total uproar, warring with what I knew to be true - or at least what I believed to be true - and what appeared to be happening."

##########

To this day, I have no idea how I managed to keep up a half decent conversation with Mother and Papa Phil on the car ride back to the house. Not only had Edward unexpectedly picked me up from the Seattle Train Station, but he'd also apologized once more – and quite insistently mind you – for the incident at my birthday party two summers ago, and then he'd pulled off the road, picked up my hand, and told me…told me…

Told me _what_, exactly?

It was this last, unanswered question that had me pondering my very sanity.

From my point of view, it simply made no sense for him to have been about to say anything remotely close to what I'd once dreamed he'd say. It was such an outrageous idea that now, away from his hypnotic eyes and voice, I forced myself to think logically.

First, Edward and I hadn't seen each other for two years, and the last time we had seen one another, he'd made it quite clear that he had no romantic interest in me whatsoever. Why would that change now, when we hadn't had any sort of communication other than that two-minute telephone conversation the previous summer?

Second, for months, I'd been mentally preparing myself for my return to Forks, constantly reminding myself that I was no longer that dream-filled, barely fourteen-year-old girl I'd been when here last. I'd moved on from all of that the previous summer. I'd spent the summer with a boy who did want my kisses.

Then Edward picked me up from the train station, taller and more handsome than my mind had dared to remember, and in one car ride, all my resolve had gone up in a cloud of smoke, disappearing into thin air like a threatening storm extinguished by the bright, warm sun.

Unfortunately, before I could figure out anything, we were circling the elegant driveway to the house.

After the servants brought us refreshments, we, including my stepsister, Lauren, sat around the porch, making small talk. Soon enough, Mother turned the conversation around to complaints about "the Cullen boy" and his nerve at picking me up from the train station without informing anyone.

"I actually found it thoughtful of him, Mother."

She stared at me for a few seconds. "Isabella, Darling, you simply must stop being so impressionable, and learn to use your head. The boy saw nothing more than an opportunity to impress your father now that his livelihood depends on him."

"I don't believe that's true at all," Papa Phil said, and though his voice was calm, there was something in his tone that didn't sound quite so serene. "I didn't build what you see nor acquire all those little pleasures you enjoy daily, my darling, by not knowing what the people around me are thinking." He gave the glass of scotch in his hand a whirl before bringing it to his mouth, keeping his eyes on Mother the entire time. "Trust me, my love, I've got a decent grasp on what's in most people's hearts and minds." He winked at her.

And despite Mother's obvious desire to say more, she pressed her lips together tightly and moved on to another subject.

"Isabella, are you all right?" Peter whispered. He'd taken a seat next to me on the soft, upholstered porch sofa.

I returned his smile wearily. "I'm just fine, thank you."

"Don't mind your mother too much," he whispered close to my ear. "Just do as I do with mine: grin and bear it."

I snorted lightly. "It's getting harder and harder to do."

"Isabella."

Blinking, I looked back to Mother. "Yes, Mother?"

"Lauren was telling me earlier about her coming-out party last year."

"Really? How…lovely."

"Justin Sterlington, heir to Sterlington Industries in California, was my escort," Lauren grinned proudly.

"That's wonderful," I answered while absently stroking the hand that Edward had picked up in the car, the hand he'd wrapped in between his own…

"Yes, I'll only be in Forks until that _wedding_ next week," she said, curling her lip in obvious disdain. "Justin's family has invited Mother and me to stay at their estate in the Caribbean for the summer, but Father insisted I be here for the wedding and…to apologize to you for the _incident_ at your last party. I _apologize._"

"It's quite _alright_," I said, matching her insincere tone.

Nevertheless, Papa Phil grinned. "There, that wasn't so hard now, was it? Now we can all attend young Masen's wedding as one, happy family."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Why you find it necessary for all of us to attend that wedding is beyond me. The only reason I agreed to any of this was because you threatened my trust fund."

"I find it necessary for all of us to attend because they are our neighbors and good friends, and I believe we owe them the courtesy…"

"_No. Bella, I swear I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I__can't__pretend. What I want is…I want…I want to tell you that I'm…"_

"…_stop being so impressionable and learn to use your head."_

"Isabella!"

I blinked again. "Yes, Mother?"

In her mid-thirties, Mother was still stunningly beautiful, with her impeccably flawless skin and her silky, blond hair. The sparkling jewels she wore only enhanced her already regal appearance. I'm not sure why, but at that moment, I had a clear memory of looking at Mother as a child and thinking that she was the most enchanting angel.

"I don't understand why you're so distracted this afternoon," she said, pursing her lips. "I would think you'd be enthralled by Lauren's debutante ball, especially since I've done almost nothing all year but ensure that Peter's mother and her committee invite you to come-out in a couple of years, regardless of that embarrassing _incident_ two summers ago. Speaking of which, I've decided it would be a good idea to forego your birthday party this year – just to make sure that the_ incident_ is completely forgotten. I hope you're not too disappointed."

"I'm sure I'll survive, and while I appreciate _all_ of your efforts on my behalf despite the _incident_, with everything going on in Europe right now, don't you think it may be a bit…indelicate to plan parties and debutante balls?"

She glared at me. "Don't think I missed the sarcasm in your tone, Isabella. Besides, what's going on in Europe has nothing to do with us."

"Isabella is correct," Papa Phil interceded, "and I have spoken to you about this, Renee. We have no idea what will be going on in a couple of years. FDR is a pacifist, but if France falls and the British are left to fight this war on their own, I'm not so sure that he'll be able to keep us out of it for very long."

"That's what I read today as well," Peter said.

Papa Phil shook his head. "Damn shame the Brits were forced to retreat."

I leaned forward in my seat, for the time being completely forgetting Mother and debutante balls and Edward's unexplained behavior.

"Papa Phil, the war won't come here, will it? President Roosevelt has promised our neutrality."

"He's promised we will remain neutral, yes." Papa Phil confirmed. "But at the same time, I keep hearing that he's working on expanding our military, planning on calling up the Reserves as well as expanding conscription."

Slowly, I leaned back. Once the war in Europe had begun, I'd been relieved beyond belief when Alice had written and told me that Edward had received and accepted a university scholarship set up by Papa Phil's corporation and would be attending college after all.

Yet Jacob was off in the Navy…

"And again, none of that has anything to do with us," Mother repeated. "Isabella, I highly doubt we're paying that school an arm and a leg so that they can teach you about a war that's thousands of miles away-"

"That war thousands of miles away affects us as well, Mother, and if it ever does come here-"

"-and to answer me back?" she persisted, her voice escalating in conjunction with her ire. "What in the world has gotten into you?"

Lauren chuckled, obviously amused. Clenching my jaw, I dropped my head and screwed my eyes shut to keep from screaming.

"That's better," Mother said. "Now Peter, your mother and I have discussed this. She'll be issuing Isabella an invitation to the debutante's ball when Isabella is ready to come out."

"I don't doubt she will," Peter replied.

"And though it's still a couple of years away, I'm sure you wouldn't mind agreeing to be her escort when the time comes?"

My head whipped up. "Mother!"

"Of course I wouldn't," Peter responded, "if that would be her wish."

There were a few seconds of silence while Peter held my gaze.

"Isabella, it's up to you," he said gently.

I recalled what Alice had said last summer:

She'd told me that the physical changes for which I'd been praying for so long were indeed occurring, but when you're the one looking back in the mirror every day, you fail to see changes that come on so gradually. It was only as I noticed more young men's eyes following me, doing double-takes, broad, toothy grins as I walked down the street that I realized what they were seeing:

An almost-sixteen year old version of Renee Dwyer.

"I…I'm not…" I turned to Papa Phil. "May I be excused now? I'd like to go get Sandy and see the Cullens."

"Ugh, Isabella!" Mother threw her hands up. "I'd hoped you would've learned your lesson after that summer! That _boy_ laughed at you! You need to keep your distance from that family!"

"Renee."

"Plenty of people laughed at me," I retorted, turning a pointed gaze towards Lauren. "Will I be allowed to keep my distance from all of them this summer?"

"Isabella, I'm seriously displeased with this new attitude you seem to have developed since last summer! I knew allowing you to spend an entire, unsupervised season with that wild, Cullen girl was a mistake, but as usual when it comes to everything to do with that family, I was overruled."

"Mrs. Dwyer, I'm sure Isabella is just tired from her long trip," Peter said.

"Renee, that's enough. Leave the child be."

"We were _not_ unsupervised," I said, my voice shaking with my own frustration. "Dad took great care of us, and Alice was very well-behaved. It was a _wonderful_ summer. May I please go see the Cullens now?"

"You may certainly no-"

"Yes, you certainly may," Papa Phil answered.

Mother's eyes flashed furiously towards Papa Phil, but that was all inconsequential to me because I was already up and running. Halfway down the lawn, I realized it would be easier to run barefoot so I discarded my shoes as I went.

Mother's strangled cries of protest made me smile.

OOOOOOOOOO

As I made my way through those woods, inhaling the familiar scents and hearing the native sounds, I was nine years old again, exploring it all for the very first time.

All the anxiousness I'd been feeling slowly dissipated until it was just the woods and I. And as soon as I reached the river and found Sandy standing on the middle of the footbridge with her tongue hanging, I cupped a hand over my mouth.

"Sandy," I breathed.

She took off running. I managed to get about five steps in before being knocked down onto the warm, moist grass.

"My Sandy," I cried, holding her while she licked my face and whimpered the way she always did after our long, ten month separation – which this time had stretched out to two years.

"Yes, Girl, I missed you too. I missed you too." I laughed breathlessly while her tail smacked my sides.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't come back to you last year. I swear I didn't forget you, but…" - tears suddenly streaked down my cheeks – "…but it got so hard."

I held her tightly while stroking her soft, tan fur, remembering the day Papa Phil first gave her to me seven summers ago. She'd kept whimpering and licking me then, too, the way she did so now, letting me know that I was forgiven. She'd always been so ready to forgive my mistakes.

"I swear I'll never stay away for that long again...no matter-"

"She outran me."

My head shot up.

Edward was standing on the Dwyer side of the footbridge, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run a mile or swam a full day in the river, the way he used to when he was a boy. My hat was in his hands, and he turned it round and round.

Swallowing thickly, I stood up as he walked closer, and Sandy circled me, anxious for my attention.

"She's getting older, but she's still real fast, and when she took off, I knew you were on your way. She just knows, you know? She's always known who she belongs to."

"_No. Bella, I swear I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I__can't__pretend. What I want is…I want…I want to tell you that I'm…"_

"…_stop being so impressionable and learn to use your head."_

"She missed you," he said, filling the silence.

"I missed her too."

As he moved closer, my eyes made inventory of the broader shoulders, the stronger build, the hair that was a bit longer, and the maturity in his features that showed up more this year than in previous years. Despite Mother's insistence on calling him "boy," Edward was now a man. There was nothing left of the boy I'd once known, and for one moment, that realization frightened me.

Except…maybe there was something. Those deep, evergreen eyes were the same ones that had always brightened my summers. And when he stopped in front of me and smiled in a way that lit up his entire face…that was familiar too.

His smile faded as he took me in, and reaching out slowly, he brushed his fingers lightly across my cheeks.

"You've been crying," he frowned.

"They're mostly happy tears," I assured him, smiling faintly.

He quirked a brow. "Mostly?"

There was a time when I could share anything with Edward, when just a word or two from him would've made it all better. Those days felt like so long ago.

"It's nothing," I murmured.

He held my gaze, the pads of his fingers gently wiping away tears, but when I dropped my gaze to the ground, his fingers fell from my face.

Edward sighed. "You don't trust me anymore."

"We were just kids," I shrugged, my eyes on the ground.

"We were," he agreed. "And I was…a stupid boy."

I kept my head down, unable to meet his gaze.

"When Alice was a little girl, Mama used to tell her stories about _forest nymphs_. They supposedly lived out here and danced and played around by the river. I didn't believe in them, of course, but…one summer day, I was sneaking to the river when I wasn't supposed to be, and I heard this…ear-splitting scream."

Knowing exactly what summer day he was referring to, I chuckled.

Edward chuckled in return. "I was sure it had to be one of those strange forest nymphs because no human could possibly scream like that."

"I was _drowning_," I reminded him, carefully meeting his eyes again.

Edward smirked. "Anyway, a couple of years later, I was on my way home after doing some fishing, and…I heard someone crying. It was that nymph again. I guess…some part of me had always been looking out for her, wanting to keep her from getting hurt, only…I didn't quite know how to do it right back then."

"I remember that day," I whispered. "You called me an anomaly and said I didn't belong."

He snorted and shook his head. "If I recall correctly, what I said was that you didn't belong in that big house over there."

"Or in your parents' house," I reminded him.

"Or in my parents' house," he conceded. "You've always stuck out everywhere, Bella."

"You said that once. You also said we'd figure out where I belonged, but you never did tell me."

"I think…" Edward swallowed, his deep, green eyes so close, locking me in with an intensity that threatened to take away my very last breath, "I think I'm really close to figuring it out."

I was held captive by his gaze, yet in the back of my mind…there was that warning telling me not to be a silly, impressionable girl imagining meanings that weren't there - just like Edward had imagined his nymph.

"Thank you for returning my hat," I said, taking my hat from him and forcing myself to break the connection threatening to undo me. "Things were so crazy this afternoon, and I guess I forgot it."

He was silent for a few seconds. When he finally did speak, it was with the once familiar, teasing tone I hadn't heard from him since my return - almost as if he sensed that I couldn't quite handle the growing tension.

"Well, M'lady, I would've hated for you to be without it for too long, seeing as it goes so well with the rest of your royal wardrobe." He inclined his head and made a grand, sweeping motion with his hand.

"You're teasing me!" I laughed.

"I am _not_," he grinned, his eyes moving up to the top of my head before slowly trailing down. "You, M'lady, look like the most regal of princesses, from the top of your head to the bottom of-" His brow furrowed. "Bella, where the heck are your shoes?"

"I left them somewhere behind on Dwyer property," I grinned.

Edward threw back his head and laughed aloud, his green eyes full of humor, and God it was so familiar and easy to fall back into this again; to…fall again.

"In some ways, you're exactly the same, yet in others…" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to return your hat, and…I _really_ wanted to finish talking to you, but Alice and the rest weren't too far behind when I left." He scowled. "I guess they were anxious to see you too."

"Alice?"

As soon as I said her name, I heard my own name called. I looked up at the footbridge, where Rose and Alice were now running towards me.

"Bella!"

We met at the middle of the bridge, hugging each other happily. Now as much as I'd missed Alice, I'd seen her last summer, but Rose I hadn't seen since the summer before.

"Rose, you're getting married! I can't wait to see you in your dress!"

"And I can't wait to see you and Alice in the bridesmaids dresses we made for you! Come on! We've been waiting. Now Esme has gone by the measurements you sent her, but you need to try on your dress so she can make any adjustments needed. And I do believe there will be _some_ adjustments." She grinned impishly at me while her eyes fell to my chest, and when I flushed hotly, she giggled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to lead me back over the footbridge. "And we wanted to discuss the food-"

And wrapped up in wedding preparations, for the next couple of hours, there was nothing else discussed.

OOOOOOOOOO

Esme held me so tight I literally couldn't breathe.

I hadn't truly let myself feel how much I'd missed her. It would've hurt too, but now that I was back, I knew that no matter what, I'd never be able to stay away from Forks and my friends again.

We spent the late afternoon talking over each other in our zeal to catch up. It was a wonderful evening, yet I couldn't completely escape the nervous fluttering in my stomach because as much as I tried not to look at Edward more than necessary, my eyes would invariably trail to him every few minutes.

And every time they did, I'd find his gaze on me.

That evening, alone in my bed with my Sandy curled comfortably at my feet, for a few minutes, I lowered the protective, mental barriers I'd erected to guard myself against Edward. For a few, vulnerable moments, I reexamined every thought and action that had passed between him and me since I'd arrived in Washington late that morning. And as I lay analyzing and dissecting every look, every word, for a couple of insane minutes, I let myself consider…to allow for the possibility that maybe…perhaps…

And then I screwed my eyes shut tightly.

Once, I'd been a simple, immature little girl, who'd opened up her heart to a boy because he'd been good to me, because he'd taken care of me, because I'd allowed myself to believe that perhaps all of that meant something more. And now because of a few, friendly smiles, because he'd reached out and touched me a couple of times, because he was trying to be my _friend_ again, my traitorous heart and mind were ready to renew all those hopes and wishes that I'd spent almost two years laying to rest.

It would do me no good to confuse renewed friendship for something else.

A strange sort of…peace fell over me then, an acceptance that I could use to keep my mind and heart from running away with itself – and straight into the unwelcoming arms of Edward Cullen.

OOOOOOOOOO

As it was, for the next few days, there was barely time to think of anything that didn't somehow involve Rose and Masen's wedding. We stood around for hours while Esme stuck pins and needles here and there, while she finished our dresses, or we headed into town to pick up items and then headed back for more.

All the while, the boys worked long hours. I barely even saw Edward, and whenever I did, we were surrounded by family and friends.

And none of us saw much of the river at all.

It wasn't until the evening before the wedding, while Rose and Esme were inside the house going insane, and Masen and Carlisle were setting up, that Alice and I found ourselves with time alone. Giggling like little girls, we squeezed onto the tire swing hanging from the evergreen and swung away, letting the breeze blow on our faces and through our hair.

"Boy, I never realized that planning a wedding could be so hectic!" she laughed.

"I know, but Rose is going to look so beautiful!"

"Yeah."

We both sighed.

"Hey, are you and Jacob still writing each other?" Alice asked.

I looked off into the horizon, where the mountains grew closer every time the swing swayed upwards.

"Yes, though Mother wouldn't be pleased to know of our correspondence."

"Or of your love affair," Alice grinned mischievously.

I shoved her shoulder. "Mary Alice Cullen, don't say such things! Jacob and I are not having a love affair!"

"But you kissed him last year, more than once. And he was your beau for the summer," Alice retorted.

"Doesn't mean we're having a love affair," I said.

"Is he still your beau?"

I stared down at my feet as I pushed us higher.

"It's…complicated. Last summer, we left Chicago so suddenly that we didn't really get a chance to figure out how we'd handle things. He writes me. He says that when he comes back next year, he wants to speak to Charlie and officially ask for permission to court me."

"And what did you write back?"

I looked up at the lush, green mountains and sighed. "I wrote that…I looked forward to seeing him again, and I asked him to please be careful."

"Goodness, that's _so_ romantic I may swoon right off of this swing!" Alice said, fluttered her eyelashes with quite a bit of exaggerated fanfare.

I rolled my eyes.

She laughed. "Seriously, Bella, what about the beau thing?"

"I suppose we'll talk about it next time we see each other."

Though I kept my eyes forward, I could feel Alice's eyes on me.

"Bella…are you holding off for Edward's sake?"

I shook my head. "No. No, I'm not. I had a crush on Edward when I was younger. That's it."

She was quiet for a few minutes, and I hoped she'd just drop it, but dropping things had never been in Alice's nature.

"He hasn't had a girl since Jessica – least not that I know of."

I tried so hard not to allow the heat of relief coursing through me to spread like wildfire.

"Why are you telling me this? Weren't you the one who told me that I shouldn't live my life waiting for him?"

"Yes, and I meant every word. I'm glad Jacob was your beau last summer. He really cares about you, Bella. The way he looked at you…I could see him wanting to marry you when he comes back."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing at all.

"I'm just pointing things out to you; that's all. Edward…he's worked hard this year. Picks up extra hours as much as he can, got all A's and B's in school for his senior year, earning himself that scholarship. It's like he's driven, working towards some goal."

Again, I said nothing.

"Then there's Peter."

I snorted, kicking my foot against the ground to gain momentum. "Peter, who locks himself in the office with Papa Phil during the day…"

"…and then tries to sweet-talk you all evening?" she grinned.

"I know what he sees," I said, shaking my head.

"What does he see, Bella?"

"He sees a young Renee Dwyer."

"Maybe. But maybe…he sees more than that."

I simply shrugged.

"I told Jasper that I almost kissed Seth."

I flashed wide, startled eyes back to her. "And what happened?"

"He was…hurt," she sighed, "and angry, and I don't blame him. I'm so sorry I hurt him, but...I don't regret it, Bella. Does that make me a horrible person?"

"Do you still love Jasper?"

She nodded. "Very much so."

"You weren't being horrible, just honest. And when you and he get married-"

"What if that's not what I want? I mean, marriage and babies."

"You don't want to get married?"

"Well, yes of course I do - eventually. But first," – she drew in a deep breath – "I'd like to do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know exactly what yet...but _something_."

I stared at her – and then burst out laughing. "Alice Cullen, I do love you."

She grinned, and for a couple of seconds, her gaze rested just over my head. "I love you too, Bella." She squeezed my hand tightly. "That's why I don't want you to forget that you do have choices, okay?"

Out of the blue, she jumped off the swing and walked towards the house, and I stared after her, swinging slowly while my mind turned over our conversation, thoughts mixing and jumbling around, but always coming to a stop on the same person.

When I turned around, Edward and Jasper were walking towards the house, home from work.

Jasper grinned at me and followed Alice inside.

And Edward…Edward walked towards me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #21:**

_**Imagination**_** (1940) by Glen Miller and His Orchestra:**

_**Imagination is silly, you go around willy-nilly  
**__**For example I go around wanting you  
**__**And yet I can't imagine that you want me too.**__**  
**_

**See you all on Thursday – which just so happens to be a couple of days before Valentine's Day…:) **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	21. Chapter 20 - Everything Changes

**A/N: This is the longest chapter yet, and this story has already had some long-ass chapters! So pack a lunch, turn the phone to vibrate, give the kiddies a hug and a kiss (and some candy to keep 'em busy), and read on. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 20 – Everything Changes**

As I sat on the swing waiting for Edward to make his way towards me, I couldn't help thinking that perhaps it was better that we hadn't spent much time together over the past few days. I'd needed the distance to allow me time to acclimate myself once again to Forks and to the reality that Edward and I were and always would be friends and nothing more. I'd thought I was fine with that. I'd accepted that my crush had been nothing more than a childhood fancy.

But seeing him against the backdrop of emerald trees and majestic mountains with the fading light bathing him in an ethereal glow…it more than unsettled me; it punched a hole through the protective wall I'd so carefully built over the past couple of years, and I had to admit something to myself, even if never again to anyone else:

I would never love anyone as much as I loved Edward.

Sandy circled him anxiously, begging for her greeting.

"Alright, Girl, alright," he chuckled, petting her head before removing his cap and turning his attention back to me. "Evening, Bella. I was hoping you'd still be here."

My traitorous heart rejoiced in those words, even as an instinct of self-preservation warned me that it was simply a greeting from one friend to another.

"Here I still am," I grinned, swinging slowly under the old evergreen. "You're home early."

"It's the end of the week, and there's a wedding tomorrow 'case you haven't heard," he teased.

I tapped my chin, pretending to ponder that. "I may have heard it mentioned somewhere."

He snorted. "Jasper and I took off early, so we could help set up. Masen must be driving Pop crazy by now."

"Just a bit, I think."

"Just a bit," he repeated with a wry smile. "'Sides, I'll make up the hours next week."

"You work so much, Edward."

"Got to," he shrugged. "I need the money."

"But I thought the Dwyer Scholarship would pay for all your classes in the fall."

His brows furrowed sharply before he dropped his gaze."Yes, it will, but I promised Masen I'd help him out, and…I need to set aside some of my own savings as well. In case." He raked a hand through his hair, displacing brown dust and particles from a long day at the mill. "Anyway, now that I'll be going off to college with Masen, we want to see if we can get ourselves a car."

"Oh. That's a good idea."

There was a short silence.

"Edward-"

"Bella-"

We both chuckled.

"Go ahead," he prompted.

"I just wanted to say that I'm glad you're not going to the Air Corps anymore, especially with all that's happening right now."

He looked down at the cap in his hands. "I'm still going into the service, Bella. I'm just postponing it a bit."

My heart dropped. "But Edward, what if the war comes here?"

His eyes met mine. "Then I'll be defending our country, making sure that you…and everybody else here are safe."

"I wish you wouldn't. My friend Jacob is in the service and-"

"Your _friend_ Jacob is in the service," - his eyes moved away from me, suddenly glaring at some fixed spot just over my head - "so I suppose you feel you don't need anyone else protecting you."

"What does that mean?"

Edward shut his eyes momentarily and shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I…" He swallowed a long gulp of air. "Yes, I know your friend is in the service. Navy, right?"

I nodded.

"Where's he stationed?"

"His ship is in the Pacific."

Another nod. "Anyway, like I said, I still plan to go. If this war in Europe continues once I'm done with college," he shrugged, "maybe I'll see if I can join the Royal Air Force in England."

"But _why_, Edward? Why go off to fight someone else's fight?"

"So that it doesn't become our fight," he said intently. "I need to try…even in some small way to make sure it never becomes _your_ fight - or anyone else's fight here for that matter. Besides, there may be nothing else here for me anyhow."

He dropped his gaze, clenching his cap so tightly his knuckles turned white. When his eyes met mine again full of conviction, my heart jumped so forcefully I was sure he must've seen it.

Suddenly releasing his cap, he grabbed both ends of the rope that held up the swing and wrapped his hands around mine. My breath hitched because his face was so so close.

"Bella…Bella, _is_ there anything-"

A honking horn cut him off.

Edward dropped his hands and took a step back, and I looked towards the sound, expecting it to be Felix coming to pick me up, but instead I saw Peter getting out of his car.

"You've got to be kidding me," Edward growled lowly.

I jumped off of the swing and walked towards the car with Edward following me.

"Peter, what are you doing here?"

"Yes, Peter," Edward echoed, crossing his arms against his chest, "just what are you doing here?'

Ignoring Edward, Peter looked at me. "I came to escort you home."

Behind me, Edward made a loud noise of frustration which he followed up with a low-muttered epithet that I assumed was meant to describe the circumstances of Peter's birth - and which I was pretty sure was not meant for my ears. In all fairness to Peter, it was incorrect anyway.

"Thank you, but I really would've been perfectly fine walking home."

"It's getting dark, Isabella. I figured you'd like to get home early tonight so that you can be up bright and early tomorrow for the wedding. Besides, I haven't had a chance to take you for a ride with the top down." He tapped the hood of the car with his palm and grinned.

"When she's ready to go, _I'll_ escort her home," Edward scowled, his voice razor sharp.

"Edward, you look like you just got home from a long day of work, and you've probably got a bunch of things to help your family do for tomorrow's event. Besides, being as you were _so_ kind as to pick up Isabella the other day when I was in a bind, I'd love to return the favor."

"I don't need the favor returned," Edward hissed, "and I don't have anything else going on."

"Edward! Son, thank God you're home! Daylight's fading fast, and we're still trying to get everything set up back here!"

"Edward, Little Brother, will you get over here and help me convince Pop that everything'll fit better if he lets me cut down a couple of trees?"

Edward shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Edward, Carlisle and Masen _have_ been waiting for you, and Peter's already here…"

Peter began guiding me towards the car, but I looked back at Edward, whose handsome features now seemed chiseled out of stone.

"Good night, Edward."

"Edward, Son, let's go!"

He exhaled through his nostrils. "Good night, Bella." And then glaring at Peter's retreating form, he added, "Make sure you keep both hands on the wheel, you hear me?"

"I know how to drive, Edward," Peter responded flatly.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Regardless, Peter didn't answer, and as we drove off, I felt Edward's eyes on me even as the car disappeared down the road.

OOOOOOOOOOO

By the time we arrived back at the house, it was completely dark. While Peter circled the driveway, I gazed up the blackish-blue sky, my mind once again in an uproar thanks to Edward and his latest mystery.

"So did you like it?"

"Hm?" I blinked.

"The car - riding with the top down, did you like it?"

"Oh. It was very nice. Thanks for picking me up, Peter."

He held my gaze, shaking his head. "Isabella, you're a difficult girl to impress."

I raised a brow. "Am I?"

He grinned. "I know I've been busy with your father this past week, but the entire point of my coming up this year…the entire point of bringing this car was…for you – though it seems that the things that impress most young ladies don't do a hoot for you."

"You brought this car here to impress me," I said with an unladylike snort. "Peter, when did you become such a rake?"

"You think I'm trifling with you here?" He gave me a look of mock resentment.

Chuckling, I reached for the door handle. "Good night, Peter. Come on, Sandy." The door opened and out ran Sandy, and just as I was about to follow her, an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back.

Startled, I turned around and found Peter's mouth a mere heartbeat from mine.

"Peter!" I shoved him away. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Oof!" he exclaimed when his back hit the driver's side door. "I'm trying to steal your first kiss!"

"You're a bit too late for that!"

"Whoa! Am I now?" He chuckled, but his chuckles quickly died down.

"Edward?"

"What? No, no! Edward and I…Edward and I are just…friends," I sighed.

He searched my eyes, cocking his head sideways. "Then that means that…you and Alice Cullen must've had quite an interesting summer last year."

I crossed my arms in front of me, lifting my chin defiantly.

"Don't worry, Isabella," he chuckled once more, "I'm not going to tell your mother." And then with a deep sigh, he got out of the car and crossed around to open my door.

"Go on," he smiled, as I glared at him warily. "Get inside."

"Good night _again_, Peter," I smirked. "And just to be clear, I'll _walk_ home next time, thank you."

"Good night, Isabella," he snorted, "and just so _I'm_ clear, I make no promises about not trying that again." He gave me a rakish wink.

"And _I_ make no promises about not shoving you even harder if there is a next time."

His ensuing laughter followed me all the way inside.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, I woke up bright and early so that Mrs. Cope could help me get ready. The dresses Esme made for Alice and me didn't come from Paris or Milan or anywhere exotic, but I recall that they were beautiful: cream-colored with spaghetti straps and a ruched bodice and waist. It was fitted through the hips before the chiffon skirt flowed gracefully to my ankles. Mrs. Cope arranged my hair into large, loose curls down to my shoulders, and after she placed the matching hat on my head and adjusted the netting around my eyes and hair, she smiled widely and took a step back.

"Child, you're a vision to behold. You'll have all the boys lining up today."

"I'm not interested in _all_ the boys," I said - and then quickly bit my lip.

Mrs. Cope took me by the shoulders and turned me around, smiling tenderly.

"Now I'd be a blind, old woman if I didn't know that. Don't worry, Sweetheart. If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that a certain, green-eyed young man will just have to show all his cards soon. There are way too many bees buzzing about you at this point."

And as I took in my reflection in the mirror, there was only one thing _I_ knew for sure: there was no way I could go through an entire summer with this feeling of…tension consuming me.

One way or another, something would have to be resolved tonight.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as we arrived at the Cullen's house, I ran inside looking for Alice. In matching dresses, we giggled like two little girls as we made our way up to her bedroom, which had been converted into Rose's dressing room.

For the next half hour, we oohed and aahed and fawned all over Rose. Esme had updated her own wedding gown for Rose to wear: removing long, lace sleeves, giving it a simpler design with cap sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a much shorter train. Instead of a long veil, Rose wore fresh, white baby's breath in her blond hair, and she carried a small, colorful bouquet of roses from Esme's flower garden.

Rose's mom, whom I'd never met before today, began crying as Esme put the finishing touches on Rose, and Alice and I held hands tightly behind them, sighing while excited butterflies danced in our stomachs. I quietly asked Alice how come Rose didn't wear her own mother's wedding dress.

"Because her mama and pop were never married," she whispered in my ear. "Her pop ran off on her mom when she was pregnant."

"Oh."

OOOOOOOOOO

When Carlisle's friend began playing the violin, it was Alice's and my cue to begin our walk down the aisle. I counted to ten as Esme had instructed, and as I walked, I kept my eyes down, feeling somewhat uneasy at the thought of so many eyes on me. When I reached the trellis where the Reverend and the men waited, I gathered my strength and looked up…and straight into Edward's evergreen eyes.

In a dark tux and a crisp white shirt with a bowtie around his neck, his hair combed perfectly and his hands clasped behind his back, he looked so unbelievably handsome it brought tears to my eyes. And as his own eyes made a slow trail from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet and back, he drew in a slow, steady breath. It wasn't until someone cleared his throat that I realized I'd stopped walking.

We both looked away, and I quickly went to take my place next to Alice.

Then Rose came down the aisle with her mom, and to this day, I've never seen a socialite or princess more beautiful. For the next half hour or so, I managed to lose myself in the ceremony, in the beauty of the words, in how happy Rose looked and how proudly Masen grinned beside her. The moment when Masen finally got to put his grandmother's ring on Rose's finger…well, it's one of the sweetest memories I have.

Yet…every few minutes, my eyes would helplessly trail back to Edward, and every time they did, his eyes were on me.

That traitorous mind of mine started imagining things…trying to raise my hopes again…picturing a day when the same guests would be gathered, yet it wouldn't be Rose and Masen up there but Edward…and…and…

And I swallowed thickly and forced my eyes away from him.

OOOOOOOOOO

After the ceremony, Rose and Masen accepted congratulations from dozens of people. Esme and Carlisle cried. From a few feet away, I watched Papa Phil approach the new couple and clap Masen on the shoulder before handing him an envelope.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys quickly reset the back yard from ceremony mode to celebration mode, and Alice and I helped the womenfolk bring out the food.

It was as I was running out of the kitchen after having retrieved the forgotten serving utensils that I ran into a strong, firm chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Edward grinned, holding me by my arms so that I wouldn't fall. The heat of his touch made me shiver visibly, and oh how I wished I wouldn't have that reaction to him.

"Edward," I breathed.

"Bella." He smiled and reaching out, smoothed back a stray lock of my hair. "I just wanted to tell you that you look...absolutely perfect today."

"Thank you," I murmured, barely breathing. "You look very handsome."

He snorted, dropping his eyes to the floor. "The tux is actually borrowed. Masen's got a buddy in college that-"

"Edward, what's going on here?"

His eyes flashed back up to mine, and he smiled crookedly. "Always so direct, aren't you? I've always admired that about you."

"Bella, Sweetie, we need those utensils!" Esme called out from outside.

"I've got to go."

Edward shook his head. "It's like a horrible joke, isn't it?" And then seeming almost unwilling, he released me.

OOOOOOOOOO

Oh, did we have a buffet! If I recall correctly, Esme and the other town women cooked up bowls of stewed chicken, baked beans, steamed brown bread, frankfurters on toasted rolls, mustard pickles, and peas marinated in French dressing. For dessert, we had fruit salad and the wedding cake: a spiced fruitcake with white frosting and an adorable couple up on top.

Afterwards, the band, which was made up of a few of Carlisle's buddies, played the most wonderful music: Glen Miller and Bing Crosby, Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman. Rose and Masen had their first dance as man and wife as the rest of us watched and applauded. It was one of those magical nights where everyone puts aside all their differences to celebrate the beginning of something new and exciting. Mother looked happy, Papa Phil, usually so reserved and cool, looked touched by emotion, and even Lauren, for as much as she'd complained, appeared to be having fun. We laughed and danced in a crowd, forgetting all our drama for the time being.

Pretty soon, the band started playing _Moonlight Serenade,_ and Masen quickly claimed his new bride, Jasper came to claim Alice, and a few feet away, Peter started walking towards me.

I quickly turned to make my escape and bumped into Edward.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, gazing down at me with a soft grin.

I filled my lungs shakily. "Yes. Yes, you may."

He took my hand in his and knit our fingers together, sliding his other hand snugly around my waist while I gasped as he pulled me in closer. I was sure he could hear the way my heart thumped almost violently as we swayed to the clarinets and saxophones.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his eyes holding mine intently.

I managed a nod while my head warned me to guard my heart, but my heart…

My heart had never quite learned to listen to my head.

I took a deep breath. "Edward, I asked you something before…in the kitchen."

He nodded, his eyes shining with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

"And I started asking you something yesterday."

I cocked my head sideways, waiting while the soft tune of the saxophones reverberated through me.

He swallowed thickly, the hand he had at my waist tightening its hold. "I wanted to know…what I _need_ to know is…if there's anything here for me, Bella."

Blood pounded like a drum in my veins. "You have your family and your friends…and…and…" I drew in a deep breath, "and no matter what, you'll always have-"

"Having fun, Isabella?"

My eyes flashed to my stepsister, who'd come with Peter to dance next to us.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm just keeping Peter company. I've got no plans to get in the way of whatever you and he started in that car last night." She giggled.

"Lauren, that's neither humorous nor accurate," Peter said, but I didn't hear the rest because suddenly, everything shifted.

Edward's hold on me stiffened. His gaze grew hard, fixing stonily on something just over my head. When the song ended, he took a step back, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Thanks for the dance, Bella."

And with that, he walked away with purposeful strides.

OOOOOOOOOO

Picking up my skirt so it wouldn't drag, I made my way out of the back yard, past the house and towards the big evergreen, all the while berating myself for being so stupid – again. With the band's music just a distant hum and the lights from the back yard a faint illumination, I rested my forehead against the magnificent tree and closed my eyes, willing the tears not to fall.

Even when I felt his warm breath tickle my neck, chasing a shiver down my spine, I refused to turn around.

"I knew you'd follow," I whispered. "You always do. I just have no idea why."

"I remembered that you're afraid of being under this tree in the dark."

I snorted. "Edward, I was barely twelve years old when I told you that. I've grown up a bit since then, in case you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, Bella."

"I don't think you really have."

I felt his touch on my hair, his fingers following its length down to my shoulders, and I closed my eyes, begging myself not to react to him the way I always did.

"That first summer, your hair was so long, and you were so tiny," he murmured, stroking my hair. "I was sure you'd end up tripping on the ends of it before the summer was over. Then the next summer, either you'd grown or your hair had gotten a bit shorter."

He circled around to face me, so close I was forced to look up to hold his gaze.

"Your eyes…" he breathed, cocking his head sideways and moving in even closer, "they've always been a deep, golden color; a shade that grows richer with the passing weeks as you spend more time outdoors." The tips of his fingers brushed across my heated cheek. "Your skin…it's almost translucent when you first arrive, but by the time you leave at the end of the summer, you're glowing, and you get this smattering of freckles right here…" His warm fingers ghosted just under my eye, moving over my nose and across to the other with a feather-like touch. "And then…by the time you come back the following summer, they're gone, and it all starts over."

"Edward, what-"

"One summer…" he continued, his eyes following the trail his fingers made from my eyes to the edge of my mouth, then moving slowly to my throat, "One summer it was your voice that had changed. You'd left the mousy squeakiness behind and instead sounded like a singing blue jay. The summer after that, it was something in the way you moved. You'd grown…graceful."

"I've never felt very graceful."

"That's because it's so deep inside you. It's not something you've learned, Bella." He frowned and swallowed. "I know you're no longer twelve…just like I know that some people will try to take advantage of that."

I narrowed my eyes and as I took a step back, my back hit the tree trunk.

"Some people like _who_?"

"Like Peter…or Jacob."

"I can take care of myself, Edward."

"I'm not sure that you can. Is Jacob your beau?"

My blood boiled. "Is that what this is all about? Because that's really none of your business."

"It's _my_ job to protect you," he retorted hotly. "I've known you since you were a little girl. That makes it my business."

"Edward Cullen, it has _never_ been your job to protect me!" I yelled. "I've known Jacob much longer than I've known you! I certainly don't need you keeping me safe from him - or from _anything_ or _anyone_ for that matter!"

Edward's nostrils flared. He stood so close, leaving me trapped between himself and the tree, and so I pressed my palms against the trunk to give myself some breathing room, but he just moved in closer.

"Don't you think you're a little too young to have an eighteen-year-old beau?"

"I'm _sixteen years old_, Edward! I'm not a child anymore!"

"I'm well aware of your age, Bella, and you're _not_ sixteen just yet!"

A humorless chuckle made its way from my throat. "I'm as much sixteen as you are eighteen!"

"I'm not saying _I'm_ eighteen. _I'm_ still seventeen," he said, abruptly grinning wryly.

I furrowed my brows. "Edward, you've been dying to turn eighteen since the day I met you. Since when do you split hairs about a few days to make yourself _younger_?"

"The point is, don't you think he's too old for you?"

"No, I don't!" I snapped. "And neither does he! _He_ sees me as an equal! _He_ doesn't treat me like a child or call me 'Little Girl!' _He_ talks with me, not down to me! _He_ laughs with me, not at me!"

"Well, he's just a peach, ain't he?"

"Ain't is _NOT_ a word!" I yelled.

Edward dipped his head to my level, so close that the tips of our noses touched.

"Don't you correct me, Isabella Marie Dwyer!" he seethed. "Don't you dare correct me while defending-" He jabbed a finger into his chest. "_I'm_ going to be a college man soon, which is more than I can say for your good-for-nothing beau! I know very well 'ain't' _ain't_ a word!"

"You pompous jack-ass!"

Edward reeled back. I could see the shock in his eyes, but I was too angry to care.

"Jacob can't afford to go to college! You take that back!" I let go of the trunk and pushed him, but he grabbed my wrists and pulled me, locking me in his hold.

"What are you doing, Bella? You're going to _hit me_?" Fire burned in his eyes. "You're going to hit me for talking mean about your precious Jakey?"

"Take back what you said!"

"I wouldn't take that back if my life depended on it," he growled. "If God himself came down from heaven and threatened to cut off my tongue unless I took that back, then I'd spend the rest of my _damn life_ without a tongue!"

Infuriated, I tried to free myself, but his hold on me merely tightened, and he pulled me again so that now I landed against him. With a loud gasp, I clearly felt the strong, hard plains of his chest against my much softer body, and our eyes widened simultaneously. Edward and I hadn't been this close to one another since we were children and knew no better.

But now…now we knew better.

Still, he didn't let go or push me away, and I certainly made no attempt to move. I would say that was probably the first time I realized it didn't matter how big or small my breasts were. At that moment, they felt full and round and wonderfully sensitive.

"Does it hurt you, Isabella, when I say such things about him? Does it make you angry?"

"Of course it does! He's my-"

"He's your what? Your what?" Edward grounded through his teeth. "Do you love him, Bella? Tell me right now! Put me out of my goddamn misery once and for all and tell me: Do you love him?"

"Put you out of your misery? Put _you_ out of _your_ misery? Yes!" I shouted. "Of course I love him! And why would you care? I'm nothing but a child to you!"

"Now you're just trying to kill me," he fumed, "twisting a knife through my goddamn heart!"

"_I'm_ killing _you_? _You_ LAUGHED at me!" I thundered. "The night I needed you the most…needed your friendship the most," I cried, "you laughed at me!"

His frenzied eyes scorched right through me, as if his gaze and his touch were somehow connected. Everywhere his hands rested, I was set ablaze, branded as he left his permanent mark on me. For a few seconds, we glared at each other wordlessly, chests heaving against one another.

But then…he loosened his hold, and as quickly as it had been stoked, the raging inferno in his eyes seemed to extinguish itself. When he spoke again, he simply sounded…exhausted.

"Jesus Christ, Bella, laughing that night was the stupidest thing I've ever done, but I've apologized for it more than once. I was sixteen for God's sakes and nervous and confused and…and tired as hell."

"Tired of what?" I demanded because though his fire may have lost some of its heat, mine was still flaring.

"Tired of what?" he echoed. With a snort, he lifted his head to the sky, glaring at the thousands upon thousands of stars that littered the heavens as if they somehow held an answer.

Meeting my eyes again, he released my arms and cradled my face, his gaze now brimming over with fire.

"I was tired of spending every single waking moment of my life...trying not to fall in love with you."

My breath hitched wildly. "_Why_? Because I was young? It's only ever been two years, Edward-"

"It wasn't our age difference! It was _never_ our age difference! It was because I knew! I think I knew it from the very beginning, from the first time I pulled you out of that river and your big, golden eyes looked up at me. I knew I'd give anything for you, and I knew if I let that happen, you'd have me in the palm of your hand!"

"And you didn't want to be in the palm of my hand? Why? What did you think I would do? Did you think I'd be like my mother and-"

"Listen to me," he growled, "I've never, _ever_ thought you to be anything like your mother! It wasn't what I thought you'd do to me, it's what I knew I'd do to you!"

"What will you do to me?" I questioned in bewilderment.

His eyes locked me in their frenzied gaze. "It'll kill me to leave you," he said hoarsely. "Yet I know that someday I'll have to. I _have_ to, Bella, but…I love you. I think I've always loved you in one form or another," he choked. "I love you, yet you deserve so much better because where will my love leave you? You're everything to me, Bella, _everything_, and I know that if you ask me to stay, I'll stay, but the entire time I'll believe myself a coward."

"Edward, I-"

"Jacob had to go, and I respect him for that," he nodded. "I do. He's serving our country, and I could never have anything less than total respect for that. Yet he had little choice, and I know it seems like I have one, but I don't believe that I do. Regardless of college and scholarships, serving is…it's always been something I've felt I _need_ to do, but where would that leave you?"

"Edward-"

"How do I do that to you? How do I convince myself that it's okay to disregard my duty to-"

I pulled his head down to mine and crashed our mouths together, and when Edward groaned against my lips, I felt its vibration all the way down to my toes, and the entire world disappeared. There was no wedding, no war thousands of miles away, no college or scholarships or service or indecision. There was only Edward and me under the evergreen, holding on to each other so tightly, tasting one another's desperation.

And mixed in there somewhere, I came to know heaven and hell and flames and thunder and fireworks and everything in between. Feelings and sensations that to this day, I can't fully describe. It was as if a scorching flame traversed up and down my body while Edward's soft lips molded around mine, while he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs and whispered my name in heady, needful breaths between kisses and while he slid his fingers through my hair and caressed my scalp, burning me with the heat of his longing.

"Bella…Bella…I…I…"

"Shh," I murmured. "Just kiss me. Just kiss me," I pleaded because I still wasn't so sure I wasn't just dreaming. Maybe I'd wake up and I'd be alone in my bed with Sandy at my feet and Edward across the river. Or perhaps, any second now, Edward would pull away and tell me that I'd misunderstood everything. But for just a few minutes, if I could just have this for a small fraction or moment of my life, I knew I'd someday die happy.

So I tried my best to keep up with his fervor, gripping his hair, losing my hands in his soft, silky mane while he alternated between sucking on my top lip and then on the bottom one. We kissed until we ran out of breath.

Finally coming up for air, Edward rested his forehead on mine, panting as his sweet breath washed over me.

"That was…" I felt too dazed and light-headed to finish.

"_Amazing_," he finished for me, breathing in and out deeply.

"Yes," I grinned ecstatically while Edward placed another tender kiss on my mouth. "So amazing."

Our lips met softly yet again, small, little brushes that made my toes curl and tingle.

"I do love him," I said because I wanted to clear that up as soon as possible.

Edward's face fell, and I reached out to lift his eyes back up to mine, cradling his head between my hands. "But only as a friend. He was my beau last summer," I confessed, "because I didn't know there could be more...and he still wants to be my beau – to formally ask for my dad's permission." Edward nodded stoically. "I told him we'd wait until he came back to decide anything, and he was willing to wait, but..."

"But what, Bella?"

"But you're the one I'm _in_ love with, Edward. It's always been you."

He suddenly kissed me again, his mouth on mine firmly and possessively, and when he pulled back, a beautiful, triumphant grin lit up his face.

"Thank you, Bella. I love you," he breathed unevenly. "I love you so much."

"And know this, Edward: I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. I won't ever ask you to believe yourself a coward. I love you for all that you are, for all that you want to be, and I won't ask you to do something you don't feel right about."

He shut his eyes for a few seconds before reopening them while once again brushing his lips against mine.

"I feel right about this," he said, his lips ghosting softly back and forth like a feather caressing my face and mouth. "Do you feel right about this?"

"I've never felt more right about anything in my life, but Edward…if I give you my heart, please don't break it again. I don't think I could bear it."

He reached up and rested his palm over my heart where it beat wildly for him.

"I'll never break it again, Bella. I swear it. I'll hold it in my hands so carefully…like it's the most precious-"

I pressed my mouth to his over and over. "I love you," I murmured against his lips. "I love you, Edward…"

Edward wrapped me in his arms then, lifting my feet off the ground, holding me against him while I slid my arms around his neck, and we laughed and kissed some more.

And there under the stars and under that magnificent evergreen tree at just shy of sixteen, I gave my entire heart to Edward Anthony Cullen forever and always.

And despite everything that came afterwards, it never stopped being his.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Happy Valentine's Day, Loves. ;) Enjoy the weekend, share lots of kisses with your loved ones. To those going to see FSoG, you'll probably be sharing more than just kisses afterwards. ;)**

**I'll be away for the next few days, so I may not be able to update on Monday. If I don't, we'll resume updates on Thursday as scheduled. But I think I've left you all in a nice place for the next few days. :)**

**AOI Playlist Song #22: **_**Moonlight Serenade **_**(1939) by Glen Miller &amp; His Orchestra (I LOVE this one. If you haven't listened to any of the songs on this playlist, at least listen to this one. It's so damn romantic):**

_**So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night.**__**  
**__**I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight,**__**  
**__**A love song, my darling, a Moonlight Serenade.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**HAVE A BEAUTIFUL WEEKEND!**


	22. Chapter 21 - Over the Rainbow

**A/N: Hope everyone had a lovely Valentine's Day! Mine was very lovely, thank you very much. :)**

**This has been betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**(As you can see, everything is lovely today) ;)**

**Anyway, most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Summer 1940 – Over the Rainbow**

##########

"Darn it all to heck, Nana!" Olivia cries, sounding positively livid. "You've just ruined every single kiss I'll ever have!"

"Seriously, Dude," Skye agrees.

"I mean, what kiss will ever be able to live up to all that hotness?"

"Man oh man!" Skye proclaims, fanning herself and apparently of one mind with her twin sister.

"When you girls kiss the right boys, I guarantee you, you'll feel all that," I assure them.

Olivia smirks. "Nana, nowadays, boys simply aren't sweet, romantic, respectful, passionate _and_ hot."

"I'll have you know that your dad is very much like that," Isabella disagrees, "and that's the kind of young man we'd like to raise your brother to be."

"Pfft, good luck with that one," Olivia scoffs.

"Well, while I do have quite a bit to finish up," Leah says, "I would like to hear just a little bit more, Mama, if you're not too tired?"

She looks like a little girl again, begging her father and me for just one more story before bedtime.

"I'm not tired at all, Sweetheart," I smile, swinging back and forth slowly. "In fact, I'm quite ready to tell as much as you want to hear."

"In that case, tell us how the wedding ended, Nana," Isabella requests.

"Tell us how you and the copper-haired young man finished off the night," Olivia pleads. "Were there more kisses?"

"Tell us _all_ about that summer," Skye smiles. "It sounds like it was finally a great one."

"It was…a magnificent summer," I confirm. "And for a long time afterwards, I held on to so many of the memories we made in that calm before the storm."

##########

After our passionate liaison, Edward and I returned to the backyard celebration separately so as not to raise any eyebrows; though, now that I see it through much older and experienced eyes, it's almost amusing how stealthy we thought ourselves to be. For one, if my lips looked half as wonderfully swollen as they felt, there was no hiding what I'd been up to. For another, the wide grin I wore would've likely split my face in two had the celebration lasted much longer.

And whenever I chanced a glance in Edward's direction, his expression pretty much matched my own.

Nevertheless, when the band announced the final song of the night, I danced with Edward once more.

He held me close, gazing into my eyes so intensely that I was forced to look away before my knees gave. It was disconcerting, this knowledge that I now had of what his true feelings had been all along - what his thoughts had been, what his feelings were now…

"What are you thinking?" he asked, the tips of his fingers gently stroking my knuckles.

Slowly, I raised my eyes back up to his. "I'm thinking of how special this night is. I'm thinking of how happy I am."

He chuckled. "Your face lights up when you're happy, and your eyes simply shine."

"It's being here…in Forks; it's always been the best part of my year. Summers here are like magic."

Edward lowered his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on my neck. "There's nothing magical about summers here, Bella. _You're_ the magic. _You_ bring the summer with you."

He pulled away holding my gaze, and I drew in a few shaky breaths.

"Isabella, the music has ended. It's time to go."

When I pulled my eyes away from Edward, I was surprised to see Mother and Papa Phil next to us, and as my eyes scanned the backyard, for the first time I noticed that everyone appeared to be taking their leave, congratulating the new couple or thanking Esme and Carlisle for their hospitality.

I looked back at my parents. Papa Phil smiled warmly.

Mother glared. "Come along so that we may say our goodbyes."

She walked away expecting me to follow, and for one quick moment, I saw myself standing there and declaring to her and to the whole world – or at the very least to everyone still present at Masen and Rose's wedding - that I loved Edward and that he loved me.

Until Papa Phil cleared his throat.

"Isabella, go with your mother and sister and make your rounds while I bid farewell to young Edward here and his family."

"Yes, Sir." I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight, Bella," Edward responded, sounding just as miserable as I felt.

I pulled away from him and quickly went after Mother, and while she forced some words of thanks out for Esme and Carlisle, Alice hugged me close and whispered,

"You disappeared there for a while, and I think we may have a lot to talk about now."

"Do we?" I raised a brow.

"Yes. Peter looks quite tragic, while my brother looks like he's just struck gold."

I looked around for Peter, who was just then walking out of the backyard with his hands deep in his pockets. Then I spotted Edward smiling and laughing jovially with everyone.

"I'll be waiting for you tomorrow," Alice assured me.

Chuckling, I hugged her once more, and as I began following my family out of the backyard, someone grabbed me by the waist and spun me around.

"Jasper and I are driving Rose and Masen to the Seattle station in the morning," Edward breathed in my ear, "but can you meet me by the river very early?"

I flashed my eyes to his. "I'll be there," I mouthed.

"Promise!" he whispered.

"I promise!"

Grinning yet again, he released me and strode away briskly.

OOOOOOOOOO

Very early the next morning, I washed and dressed quickly and quietly and made my way downstairs with Sandy.

"_Shh_, on tip-toes, Sandy, on tip-toes," I whispered while her paws click-clacked noisily over the wooden staircase. Opening the front door, I barely dared to breathe as we floated down the porch steps...and took off running.

As I neared the river, the sound of the gentle current flowing over the rocks filled my ears. No longer needing to control herself, Sandy raced along ahead of me, and for a fraction of a second, a sliver of uncertainty ran up my spine. What if I had in fact been dreaming my encounter with Edward, and when I'd break through the brush, nothing and no one would be waiting?

My heart raced frantically as I reached out and parted the bushes in front of me.

Edward was standing under the early morning sun, over the narrow footbridge, kneeling as he greeted Sandy. When he spotted me, his mouth pulled up high at both ends, and as soon as he'd satisfied Sandy, he took off running. I barely had time to draw in a few, unsteady breaths before he was scooping me up into his arms.

"You made it," he breathed, pressing his warm lips to mine and sighing in undisguised relief against my mouth. And when I tasted his sweet breath, when I felt the solidness of his shoulders and the hard plains of his chest against mine, every bit of tension evaporated. I hadn't been dreaming after all.

"I've been dreaming all night about doing that again," he confessed as he pulled back to look at me.

"Me too," I admitted.

His eyes roamed my face, and he ran a finger down my cheek before setting me down and taking my hand in his. We walked back towards the footbridge and sat with our legs hanging over the edge and droplets of water spattering our knees. For a few minutes, we said absolutely nothing and contented ourselves with listening to the river's current and watching the streaming sunlight sparkle over the water while the birds chirped and Sandy jumped around.

"After I asked you to meet me here," he said, "I started thinking you might get in trouble for leaving your house so early."

"Mother and Lauren tend to sleep late," I informed him. "Papa Phil rises early, but he spends mornings in his office with Peter or on the telephone. When it's time for breakfast, Papa Phil insists we all meet in the dining room. Once that's over, Mother goes back to her room or entertains while Lauren wanders around the house or visits Jes…friends." I cleared my throat. "Papa Phil and Peter return to the office, and I have my lessons. Once those are done, I usually leave, and as long as I'm home by suppertime or call if I'm staying for supper at your house, no one other than Mrs. Cope misses me much. So you see, no one will even know I'm gone."

He studied my face, a vertical line creasing the space between his brows. "I find it hard to believe you go that unnoticed."

"It's true." I cleared my throat once more. "Were you waiting long for me?"

"I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you, so I got here very early indeed," he grinned. "But then I started worrying about getting you in trouble, and then I started thinking maybe you'd changed your mind."

"You were worrying a whole lot this morning," I teased.

He smirked and squeezed my hand. "I suppose I was. You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Very purposefully, I shook my head from side to side. "I haven't changed my mind. Have you?"

With his eyes on mine, he leaned in and softly brushed my lips with his. "Never," he murmured. "Now that I've told you I love you…I don't think I can stop."

I shut my eyes against a surge of love so powerful I was almost frightened it would lift me off the bridge and send me reeling into the river.

"Then don't," I murmured, right before I felt his mouth on mine once more.

OOOOOOOOOOO

With kisses and whispered reassurances easing that initial tension, we spent the next hour or so talking and laughing quite comfortably with each other. If you ask me what exactly we discussed, I wouldn't be able to recall; though I'm pretty sure it was more or less the same sort of things we would've shared with one another a couple of years ago. But having this truth between us now, this profession of love, well it changed everything.

"I don't want to go," he murmured, pursing his lips reluctantly, "but if Rose and Masen miss their train, they'll likely string me up."

"Go then," I chuckled, "I'd hate to see you strung up." Yet I refused to let go of his hand, and my mouth kept seeking his for more of those sweet, honey kisses to which I was quickly becoming addicted.

Breathlessly, he rested his forehead on mine and smiled. "How are we ever going to bear time apart now?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged. "And when I leave Forks…"

The smile fell from his handsome face. "Let's not think of that now. Will you be at my house later today when I return from Seattle?"

"Perhaps. If you're not too late getting back."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, but now, I've really got to go."

"Go then…"

And he pressed his mouth to mine once more.

OOOOOOOOOO

As I took the porch steps up to the house, I hummed a tune to myself while Sandy panted happily at my side.

"Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up in a world where clouds are far behind me…"

"Good morning, Isabella."

I looked up at Mother. She was seated on the porch swing dressed in a white, sheath dress, her legs crossed in a manner that showed off her elegant calves. With iridescent pearls on her ears and around her neck and her beautiful head of blond hair down and loose around her shoulders, she looked like an angel.

"Good morning, Mother."

"Where have you been?"

"I…I was by the river."

"This early?" She took a sip from her morning cocktail, keeping her cool gaze on me.

"Yes. I took Sandy for a walk."

She nodded slowly. "Well you should have invited Peter. I'm sure he would've been more than happy to accompany you."

"Peter has never enjoyed the river, Mother."

"I'm sure he'd make an exception."

With a deep breath, I attempted to resume my walk up the porch steps without further conversation.

"Isabella, I expect you to act like a young lady this summer and remain close to the house, especially while we have guests."

I met her eyes, pressing my lips together tightly to keep from screaming.

"Do you understand me, Isabella?"

"Perfectly, Mother."

"Very good then." She held me locked in her eyes for a few moments more before she turned back into the house.

OOOOOOOOOO

Now understanding and obeying are two very different endeavors, as any sixteen-year-old girl from any generation knows quite well. Therefore, as soon as my lessons were over, I made my way to the Cullen's.

Alice was waiting for me on the swing under the evergreen.

"I have two brothers," she began as soon as I squeezed in next to her. "One had his wedding night last night, and while I'd rather not think of what had him so pleased this morning," she shuddered, "I think I can understand why he was grinning so widely at the breakfast table; however, the other one had no such night..."

I whistled my tune from this morning while studying the mountains before me intently, but out of my periphery, I could see Alice's eyes on me.

"Yet when I woke this morning, Edward was already returning from the river and looking like he'd had a _very_ enjoyable time there indeed."

I sighed, deciding to cut to the chase. "Last evening, Edward told me he loves me…that he's always loved me. And I told him that I've always loved him too. I met him by the river this morning, and we spent some time together, talking."

"Simply talking?" She raised a brow, and I felt my cheeks turn pink.

Alice giggled. "I didn't think so."

"Honestly, I wasn't so sure how you'd feel about it," I confessed with a smile.

"About you kissing my brother?" she frowned.

"Not just kissing him. I wondered how you'd feel about the entire thing."

"Why? Because I kept reminding you that you have choices?"

"Well, yes."

"Bella," she sighed. "None of that meant that I didn't want you with my brother, but out of all of us here, you do have the most choices. I simply don't want you to ever forget that." She reached out and pushed back a few wisps of hair that the breeze kept blowing in my face. "I'm glad that you've both finally figured things out, but…what about the service?"

"What about it?"

"Has he changed his mind, then? Is he not going to go? Because as far as I know, he hasn't told Mama and Pop that."

"He's still planning to go," I confirmed, "once he's done with the university."

"And that's okay with you?"

"Of course I'd rather he not go, but I won't attempt to change him, Alice. I've known this has been his dream since we were kids. I fell in love with him knowing it was his dream."

"So he's asked you to wait for him?"

"He didn't ask me to wait, no, but if I have to wait, I will. I understand what you mean about my having choices; I do, and this is my choice. Besides," I smiled and gave her a little shrug, "I really _don't_ have a choice; he has my heart."

She chuckled. "In that case, no, I suppose you didn't have a choice."

OOOOOOOOOO

A little while later, Esme asked me to stay for supper so that I could help them finish off all the wedding leftovers.

Now I'd figured out a few things over the years. One of which was the fact that in cases such as these, it was Papa Phil's permission that I should seek. Sure enough, Papa Phil consented to my staying for supper, indicating he would send Felix for me at nine p.m.

And a few hours later, we heard Carlisle's car finally pull up in front of the house. I'd been setting the table and quickly made my way to the front, watching from the closed screen door as Carlisle and Esme greeted Jasper and Edward. Edward's eyes anxiously scanned the perimeter, and when he looked up and saw me at the door, he made his way up the porch steps and stopped just at the other side, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

"Evening, Bella," he grinned, his evergreen eyes dancing impishly. "You stayed."

"Good evening, Edward," I grinned back. "Of course I stayed."

OOOOOOOOOO

After dinner, with some time left before Felix was due to pick me up, Alice, Jasper, Edward and I stepped outside into the warm evening to enjoy the mountain air on the porch. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and with our loud conversation and laughter, it was almost like old times, except that we were older now; Rose and Masen were on an actual honeymoon, and the four of us…well, eventually Jasper and Alice took to a quiet corner on the porch, and Edward and I were left alone on the steps.

My mind abruptly filled with images from two summers ago, memories of Edward and Jessica around the corner on this same porch, and I was suddenly gripped with a senseless fear and turned away from Edward. When he took my hand and guided me up, my heart began racing.

Yet instead of taking me around the corner, Edward led me down the steps and through the front yard, stopping once we reached the wonderful evergreen.

He made a grand, sweeping motion towards the tire swing. "Your seat, M'Lady."

"Thank you, M'Lord," I chuckled, remembering when we used to play these games as children. Edward held the ropes steady as I took a seat, and then he moved behind me and pressed his palms to my back, gently propelling me forward.

"I'm glad you stayed for supper."

"Can you blame me? Esme tempted me with the most delicious leftovers."

He laughed. "Is that what you stayed for? Well then, I've got to thank Mama for her quick thinking."

I swiveled my head around to look up at Edward. "What do you mean her quick thinking?"

He smirked and leaned in close, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. Even in the fading light, I could see the way his eyes sparkled impishly.

"Last night, after the party, I told both her and Pop that I'd finally gotten myself together and let you know how I felt about you, and…that you felt the same."

"So they know?" I murmured, a bit startled by this revelation, though it explained why Carlisle and Esme had been given me such contemplative looks all evening.

"What did they say?" I wondered.

"They told me to take care of you," he grinned, "and to make sure I act as a gentleman should, and though I've assured them that I will, they've probably got an eye on us right now." He chuckled when my eyes widened and I shifted them nervously towards the house. "And they told me…"

His grin faltered slightly, and he seemed to change his mind about whatever else he was about to say.

"Do you mind that I've told them?" he asked instead.

"Not at all," I replied truthfully. "I just…hadn't thought about it."

"I assume you've told Alice?"

"Well of course," I admitted. "Can you imagine my trying _not_ to tell her?"

He laughed. "Jasper and I kind of talked about it in the car, so even if you hadn't told her, he'd be telling her just about now. Those two are like gossipy old ladies."

We both chuckled while the wind dispelled by the forwards and backwards motion of the swing tickled through my cheeks and gently fanned through my hair.

"I know you can't tell her," he said softly.

"My mother and my family, they're not like yours. We don't…share the way you do."

"She wants something else for you."

I couldn't deny it.

Edward stopped the swing and circled around, kneeling in front of me. He took my hands in his, knitting our fingers together and keeping his eyes on the way his thumbs stroked my knuckles.

"I'm trying, Bella. I'm going to college in the fall, and I'm working hard and-"

I removed one of my hands from under his so that I could bring his eyes back up to mine.

"Are you doing all that for Mother's sake?"

"No, not for her, Bella. _You_ deserve so much."

"Edward, I don't care what my mother thinks or wants. All I want is you."

"You're still so young."

Pain lanced through me like a spear, but Edward quickly cradled my face in his hands.

"All I mean by that is that you'll still be under your mother's control for at least a couple of years more."

"If she tries to keep me away from Forks, Papa Phil won't allow it."

I knew that. I knew it in my bones. I knew it the way most anyone over age five knows that one and one equals two. I'd figured out a few things over the past couple of years. It was why I was daring to defy her at that moment.

"I hope to God you're right. In the meantime, I simply want to be the best that I can be for _you_." He kissed me softly, grazing the corner of my mouth with his and brushing the tip of his nose against my cheek while a throaty hum emanated from him.

"Bella..." he murmured, "I do understand the problems with sharing this. I hope you don't mind, but...I took the liberty of speaking to Peter at the wedding."

Once more, I was startled. "You did? When?"

"Before I came looking for you."

"Edward, I hope you know that what Lauren said-"

"Of course I knew that wasn't true," he smiled. "I wasn't sure you'd want me courting you after the way I behaved two summers ago, but I needed to make sure that Peter wouldn't attempt to trifle with you one way or the other."

"Edward, Peter is harmless," I assured him. "All he sees in me is a younger version of Mother. In a few days, he'll be gone, and that will be that."

He pursed his lips, and though he didn't necessarily seem convinced, he nodded stiffly.

"What about Jacob? Will you be telling him about us?"

"I…suppose, when he returns."

His eyes searched mine. "Do you write to him?"

"He's my friend, Edward. Would you ask me to stop being his friend?"

"No, Bella." He frowned in the fading light. "No, I wouldn't ask that of you, but…I would ask that you let him know that you have a beau now. This past year, not knowing where I stood with you, Bella, it was torture. I think he'd appreciate knowing once and for all where he stands." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And if I'm being completely honest, I don't want _any_ man out there believing he may still be your guy."

I bit my lip uneasily. "I understand what you're saying, but the thought of hurting Jacob while he's so far away…I _don't_ love Jacob the way I love you, Edward, but he _is_ my friend."

"And like I said, I wouldn't ask you to end that friendship, just to clarify things. Will you please just think about it?" He expelled a heavy breath. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I reached out and stroked his cheek with the back of my fingers, and Edward sighed, closing his eyes. "You're not upsetting me, and I _will_ think about it. I promise."

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next week and a half, despite Mother's warning, I kept to the routine I'd had every summer in Forks. Once my lessons were done for the day, I headed to the river. And despite the fact that I was blatantly disobeying her, the reprimand was yet to come. By the end of the following week, Lauren was gone, on her way to the Caribbean with her mother and her _friend_, and I was breathing much easier.

On the morning of Peter's departure, there was a short period of time before breakfast when we were left alone in the dining room while we waited for the rest to arrive. Peter walked over to me and took my hand, kissing it lightly.

"I'll hope to see you again soon, Isabella."

I gave him a wry smile as I withdrew my hand. "Take care of yourself, Peter."

He grinned, but I was taken aback by the seemingly wistful expression behind his blue eyes. "I would've liked to have asked for permission to...visit you this year, to come see you up in school. It's not too far from my university."

I said nothing.

He sighed. "I hope Edward knows how lucky he is."

No, I don't suppose I was very stealthy.

Peter chuckled. "Isabella…just know that if you decide he's not the knight you've apparently always believed him to be, I'm here."

I held his gaze firmly. "Do you really believe it would be that simple - that exchangeable?"

This time, it was he who didn't respond.

"Enjoy the rest of your summer, Peter."

He gave me a slight nod of the head. "You as well, Isabella…truly."

OOOOOOOOOO

The summer of 1940 was the first time I'd arrived in Forks early enough to celebrate Edward's birthday – his long-awaited eighteenth birthday as was the case.

While he was at work that day, I helped Esme bake his favorite cake, a chocolate, eggless and flourless cake Esme had learned to make back when eggs and flour had become scarce. There was a lightness to the pre-celebration preparations. Esme had recently confessed to me that at one time this had been a birthday she looked on with dread; now it simply meant that Edward was officially a man. Esme prepared another fine dinner, and afterwards, we gathered around and sang _Happy Birthday._

"Make a wish, Son," Esme smiled happily when we were done singing, and Edward looked up at me, holding my gaze as he blew out the candles.

"What did you wish?" I asked him later.

"Can't tell you," he grinned. "If I tell you, it won't ever come true."

We were sitting on the footbridge, just he and I. Alice and Jasper had come with us, but as usual, they'd disappeared somewhere. Edward and I were left alone, something about which neither one of us complained these days.

"Tell me this then," I asked more shyly. "Did you truly enjoy your birthday present?"

He took my hands in his. "Bella, it was the best birthday present ever. I can't believe you composed a song for me."

I rolled my eyes because he was exaggerating slightly. I hadn't actually composed a song for him, more like reworked a couple of Duke Ellington's pieces into one piece, but his approval warmed me all over.

"Well, I'm glad, but…I really do wish you'd tell me what else you wished for."

Edward threw back his head and laughed loudly. "You are a nosey, little thing aren't you? I suppose it's rubbed off on you from hanging around with my sister so much."

"Please?"

He shook his head. "I don't want to scare you off so early into our courtship."

"I'm not a child anymore, Edward," I reminded him. "I don't scare as easily as I used to."

"Don't you now?" He raised a brow, leveling me with a steady gaze. With his jaw perfectly squared, he suddenly appeared to be in deep debate with himself.

"There is…something I'd like to try." His voice had dropped low, and there was a throaty quality to it that fascinated me.

I swallowed as I watched him move in slowly, and though I knew he was going to kiss me, there was something in his gaze that seemed hungry, almost…predatory, something that made my pulse quicken. When I leaned in to meet him half way, he stopped.

"Don't move," he ordered. "I'll come to you, and if you don't like what I do, you'll let me know, okay?"

By this point, my heart was ready to pound right out of my chest. I had no idea what he intended to do, but I nodded nonetheless, completely bewildered.

And quite curious.

"Close your eyes," he whispered roughly just before his lips brushed mine, and I sighed in relief and pleasure. This I knew. This I _adored_. Almost two weeks later, Edward's mouth on mine was still the most amazing sensation ever, and I was sure that would always be the case.

He softly sucked on my lips, first one then the other as he seemed to enjoy tasting each one separately before enveloping both between his. His warm breath mixed with mine and sent the most wonderful shivers up and down my spine, and I allowed myself to get lost in the heat of his mouth, in the way his hands reached up to cradle my face and the way his thumbs stroked my cheeks.

There could be nothing better than this.

At least that's what I thought until his hands tightened around my face; not too much, but just enough to keep me in place as his tongue suddenly slid between his parted lips and tried to nudge its way inside my mouth.

"Open up for me," he breathed, and when I gasped, his tongue slipped in.

Bewildered, I tried to back away, but Edward held my face firmly, and all at once, his tongue was moving inside my mouth! Not knowing what to do, I remained perfectly still, but as if on instinct, the second the tip of his tongue touched the tip of mine, I began moving mine with his, and lightning exploded into my every extremity.

Also, I swore I'd discovered a new corner of heaven.

Tips touched and retreated before searching out each other again, first shyly but as the seconds wore on, they moved with more and more urgency.

When Edward groaned, I became dizzy and reached for his shoulders to keep from passing out. That was when he lay back and pulled me down over him so that every part of me was lined up with every part of him. My hands moved up to fist his hair while Edward's hands drifted down to curve around my hips, and the entire time our tongues continued eagerly stroking one another.

Then as abruptly as it began, it ended.

Edward sat us up and instantly moved me next to him on the bridge while he gazed at me through eyes that were wilder and darker than I'd ever seen them.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry. I don't know what- I only meant to kiss you. I only meant-"

"Shh. Shh, it's okay." I shook my head and pressed my mouth quickly to his. "Shh." Wrapping my arms around him, I rested my head on his heaving chest and listened to his violently thumping heart. "It's okay."

He held me tightly while our ragged breaths returned to normal.

"Have you…ever done that before?" I asked

"No," he breathed.

I sighed in undeniable relief. "Happy Birthday."

There was a moment of silence, and then Edward burst out laughing.

"I love you so, so much," he finally chuckled. And using one finger to bring my face up to his, he looked at me very seriously indeed. "You're young, and I know it upsets you when I say that," he added when he saw me about to protest, "but it's the truth, and I _will_ respect that. I _will_ respect you."

There was a new determination in his eyes I knew I wouldn't be able to argue with, and so I slowly nodded, and with another sigh, returned my head to his chest.

"But you will kiss me that way again, won't you?"

He laughed. "Yes. If you enjoyed it, then yes, I most certainly will."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #23: **_**Over the Rainbow**_** (1939) by Judy Garland:**

_**Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream  
really do come true.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all on Monday! Have a great weekend!**


	23. Chapter 22 - Love and Principles

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I haven't had a chance to get back to reviews lately, but I want you all to know how much I enjoy and appreciate them. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Summer 1940 continued – Love and Principles**

"Alright, Nana, at this point, you're just showing off, and frankly, it's a bit mean," Olivia informs me.

"For real. I mean, how in the world is any twenty-first century guy ever supposed to live up to the copper-haired young man's twentieth-century manners and actions?" Skye wonders aloud. "Tell me what dude nowadays would try to treat a simple French-kiss with so much respect and awe, yet still manage to make it so damn hot?"

I chuckle. "It's not a matter of living up to twentieth-century manners. What was considered new and risqué then may not be considered so now, and that's fine," I assure them. "Of course I realize that times change, but what should never change in any day and age is the fundamental principle of respect."

"Which is the foundation for real love," Isabella adds. "You can't have love without respect, and no, Girls, it's not easy to find that in this day and age, but it doesn't seem as if it's ever been _easy_ to find. You simply have to hold on to your principles, no matter what. And you have to allow yourself to…hope that when you're ready, you _will_ find it."

It's this declaration by Isabella that finally allows me to breathe just a bit easier this early and warm afternoon. When I'd stepped out here a couple of hours ago and found Isabella crying, this is what I'd feared she was losing: her ability to hope in a world where sometimes…hope seems useless.

"And once you find that love based on respect, you have to hold on to it tightly," Leah says gently.

"Alright, Mom and Nanas," Olivia sighs, "we get it, we really do. The way a boy and a girl express their feelings may change, but the respect behind that expression should always stays the same."

"Exactly," Isabella smiles.

"Now can we please get back to the summer of 1940?" Skye pleads. "It sounds like you and the copper-haired young man were living in your own little bubble that entire summer."

"In some ways we were," I allow. "Though the world was definitely still spinning around us. It was just a couple of days after Edward's eighteenth birthday that France signed the armistice agreement, officially conceding defeat to the Germans."

"We read about that in school," Olivia claims. "In late June of 1940, after weeks of fighting, Paris fell to the Germans, and the French were forced to sign their surrender in the Forest of Comp…the Forest of Comp…"

"The Forest of Compiègne," I assist her. "The German dictator wanted to humiliate the French the way he felt that the Germans were humiliated at the signing of the 1918 Armistice, which ended the First World War. Therefore, he chose to accept their official surrender at the same exact site where Germany had been forced to submit her surrender just a couple of decades earlier."

"At that point, almost the entire European continent was in the hands of madmen," Isabella says sadly.

"Yes," I nod. "And Great Britain was left to fight the Axis Powers…alone."

##########

And in Forks, Washington, in the great United States of America, a young girl and her beau spent their first summer in love, longing the daytime hours away so that work and lessons and everything that kept them apart could be finished. Once the afternoons and evenings arrived, they were free to spend their time together, either sitting by the river, kissing over the warm grass, or simply talking and dreaming late into the evenings under the magnificent, old evergreen tree…

One such warm, lazy Sunday afternoon, exactly one month after Rose and Masen's wedding, and exactly one month since Edward and I had started courting, we all found ourselves by the river. Between the boys working and all the girls' responsibilities, this was the first time since my arrival over a month ago that we'd actually gotten a chance to venture into the river. And for today, I'd picked my outfit very carefully:

A two piece swim suit.

The blue and white patterned top came with built-in padding to accentuate what I would've appreciated just a little bit more of from Mother Nature. It had wide straps that tied behind my neck as well as a wide band under the cups, which left about three inches of exposed skin between where the blue skirt began and ended, right below my thighs.

I tied the matching headband around my hair, making sure to tie a nice bow at the top, and before putting on my dress, I turned from side to side and looked at myself in the mirror. As I reached into my brassiere and pushed and pulled my bust around to enhance it as much as humanly possible, I tried not to think of how as a child, I used to watch Mother dress and do the same thing.

Once at the river, it seemed as if all my trouble would have been for naught. After I removed my dress, I had all of two seconds in which I saw Edward's eyes grow wide while taking me in before he cleared his throat and schooled his features into something inexpressive. What's more, the entire time we were in the river, his eyes never once wandered below my neck. We played, we splashed, he even attempted to improve my swimming skills, yet his eyes never strayed. And he took more than a little care in making sure that my chest was never pressed against his chest in any way, shape or form.

Needless to say, I was left quite flustered…and frustrated.

Afterwards, we rested on blankets situated over the soft, green grass while the warm sun dried droplets of river water from our arms and legs. Though we'd played as a group in the river, as usually tended to happen when the six of us were together now, we'd separated into pairs of two after a while, far enough apart so that none of us knew what the other two pairs were doing.

Edward had his head on my lap, and Sandy had her head over my feet. Eyes closed, Edward hummed a tune to himself as I ran my fingers through his wet, copper hair. The canopy of branches above us created a lightshow over his face, dancing like silver clouds in a beautiful, bright sky, and whenever the light breeze prickled his skin, a smattering of goose bumps would rise over his lightly-tanned arms. I followed the goose bumps with my eyes, cocking my head as I wondered whether they continued under the wet shirt he'd kept on the entire time we were in the water. I wondered a whole lot about what was under that shirt.

"Edward?"

"Yes," he answered sleepily.

"Is kissing me enough for you?"

He opened one eye first, then the other. "What do you mean is kissing you enough?"

"You know what I mean," I answered sheepishly.

Gazing at me through dark, evergreen orbs that looked as if they'd been created by Mother Nature herself, Edward lifted his head from my lap and supported his weight on one hand, using his other hand to nudge a few strands of hair behind my ear.

"No," he frowned, "I really don't know what you mean."

"I mean…" – I bit my lip, forcing myself to hold his gaze while he searched my eyes – "I'm truly happy you're not going to the service yet, even though I know it's still something you want to do. And I won't try to stop you from going; I'll simply cherish every moment we have together until then."

"As will I," he assured me, his brows creasing together in obvious confusion.

"I wish we lived closer to each other, and that we could see each other throughout the year," I mumbled, dropping my gaze to his chest.

Nudging my chin with his thumb, Edward lifted my eyes back up to his. "I do too, Sweetheart," he said, giving me a sad smile, "but now that we're courting, I'll write you every day, Bella. In between classes and work and God-willing, I want to try to come down-"

"What if you meet someone in college, Edward?" I blurted, finally giving voice to one of my many fears. "Someone older and more…sophisticated."

"Bella, that could never happen," he assured me, his voice gentle yet firm.

"How do you know?"

"I just know," he shrugged. "But by the same token, what if you meet another guy?"

"Edward," I smirked, "I go to an all-girls school."

"So that's why I don't need to worry?" he snorted. "Does that mean that if you were in a co-ed school, I'd need to be on high alert?"

"No, of course not!"

He laughed for about thirty seconds, but his amusement quickly died down, and he swallowed thickly before looking at me again. "What about Jacob? Are you sure you don't want him?"

"Edward," I sighed, "I won't lie to you and tell you I don't care for him, but it's a totally different kind of caring than what I feel for you."

He nodded thoughtfully. "He got your first kiss."

It was true, so I said nothing.

"I suppose that's my own fault. Did you like it though? Never mind," – he shook his head, looking away from me – "don't answer that." He looked back at me. "Actually, I think I do want to know. I think I need to know."

"Did _you_ enjoy kissing and touching Jessica?"

Edward closed his eyes, visibly cringing. Meanwhile, I folded my legs under me while Sandy wandered off to find a more restful spot.

He eyed me sheepishly. "I guess I asked for that, didn't I?"

"If you must know, I'll give you the truth: yes, I did like Jacob's kisses" – Edward winced – "_but_ they were nothing, absolutely _nothing_ compared to how _your_ kisses make me feel. Yet I don't know what kissing Jessica was like for you, and _I_ don't want to know."

"Now I just feel like a cad."

I shook my head. "Don't-"

Before I could finish, he moved in and captured my lips, pulling on them hungrily.

A strange sound I'd never made before escaped me as Edward stroked my tongue with more urgency than usual, making my insides quiver. I reached for his shoulders and instinctively shifted closer to him, and emboldened by his mouth, pushed him back over the blanket. I'd been dying to feel him under me again the way he'd been that night we'd first kissed this way.

But though he pulled me down with him, he made sure that I remained next to rather than over him. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to lifetimes that just weren't long enough before I had to come up for air.

When we broke the kiss, he gently nudged my head to his chest, being mindful to keep the rest of me off of him.

"He never kissed me that way," I said breathlessly.

"Thank God," Edward breathed.

I couldn't help laughing.

"Bella…what you saw me doing with Jessica that night…"

"Edward-" I shook my head hastily because I really _didn't_ want to know.

Yet Edward persisted. "It wasn't what you thought. You were up there in Alice's room…hurt and upset, and I knew it was _all_ my fault. It was like no matter what I did to try to keep you from hurting that summer, I just kept hurting you more and more. What you saw that night…it wasn't love, and it wasn't a reflection of my feelings for you or for her; it was simply me being stupid, but I didn't…touch her, Bella," he insisted anxiously.

I lifted up my head to look at him. "You didn't?"

"No."

"How about…how about before that night?"

"No."

"After?"

"No."

"So you didn't…wait, so you've never touched anyone's boobs?"

"No, Bella," he sighed. "When I told you a couple of weeks ago that I'd never kissed anyone the way I kiss you, it was true. And I haven't…done anything else either. I won't lie to you and tell you that I haven't been curious, and I won't tell you that had you not shown up when you did that night, I wouldn't have…touched…"

This time, I cringed quite visibly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Edward said quickly. "But I needed you to know that I know I should've always waited for you, from the very beginning because there's no one else I'll ever want to touch-"

His eyes widened in horror. For a second, they fell to my chest, and then he reddened and looked away.

"Oh God, Bella, I'm not saying that I want to touch you. I mean, I do, but I wouldn't expect you to allow me to do so now. Not that I expect you to allow me to do so later! Which isn't to say that if you allowed me to I would. Or wouldn't!" He raked a hand through his hair. "What I mean is…"

I threw myself back over the blanket and laughed and laughed, holding my stomach while Edward hovered over me, supporting his weight on his forearms.

"I'm glad you find my talent for sticking my foot in my mouth so humorous," he scowled.

Still chuckling, I reached up and cradled his face in my hands. "It is a little bit funny."

He smirked. "I guess I'm not very good at this wooing a girl properly business."

"At least you answered my initial question."

"What was that again?"

"I wanted to know whether kissing me was enough for you or…if you wanted to touch me."

His lips twitched into a crooked smile, and though he merely traced the shape of my lips with one finger, I felt his touch absolutely everywhere.

"You have absolutely no idea what you do to me, do you?"

I shook my head slowly, locked in his suddenly dark eyes.

"Bella…you're so beautiful, so perfect in every way. And your mouth…it's magic. Nothing ever has been or ever will be like kissing you. I could kiss you forever and never tire of it. Kissing you is definitely enough for me."

I sighed unevenly. "I don't have much experience with pretty words from boys, but the things you say to me, Edward, they warm me all over. They make me feel like melting into the grass and staying here with you like this forever," I breathed. "You're doing just fine - at least with me."

"Then that's all that matters," he grinned, "but…"I've got one more confession to make."

"Oh? And what may that be?"

He swallowed. "Jacob…well he didn't really get your first kiss."

I arched a brow. "Yes, he did."

He shook his head. "No, he didn't."

"I think I would know to whom I gave my first kiss, Edward. I was there."

"See, that's just the thing," he said, looking rather sheepish. "You were there, but…you were sort of…unconscious."

"Unconscious?" I frowned.

He nodded. "After you almost drowned - the second time, I mean - I was trying to blow air into your lungs-"

"Blow air into my lungs?"

"Yeah, it's this thing called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Fairly new. Anyway, I was trying to do that, but for just a fraction of a second, while my lips were on yours," he eyed me guiltily, "I savored it, Bella. And for a long time…especially last summer when you weren't here…I'd remember it in my dreams."

"Wait a minute, so I was dying and you were kissing me?"

"No!" Edward insisted, turning positively bright red. "It wasn't like that!"

I couldn't help it; I started laughing again.

He smirked. "You enjoy torturing me, don't you?"

"Sometimes. But…I think I kind of remember it."

"You do?"

I gazed into his evergreen eyes, trying to find the words to explain what I meant.

"Do you remember once, a long time ago, you told me that 'true and loyal hearts never forget'?"

"When I told you that Sandy would never forget you, no matter how long you were away."

"Yes," I nodded. "My mind doesn't remember you kissing me that day, but I think…my heart remembers it. I think my heart…could never forget something like that."

My eyes grew wide as I was hit with a sudden realization.

"That's why Jacob's kisses…they were nice…but they weren't enough because I'd already felt your kiss, even if while unconscious, and nothing else could ever compare."

"True and loyal hearts never forget," he murmured with a smile.

"No, never," I whispered.

OOOOOOOOOO

On the fourth of July, 1940, the Dwyer Independence Day Barbecue was as grand as ever. Though around Mother, Edward and I didn't openly flaunt our relationship, we all enjoyed the evening together. And in the dark, during the end-of-evening fireworks, as we all stood in a crowd and gazed up at the colorful explosions in the sky, a pair of fingers carefully and silently entwined themselves with mine, and I continued gazing up at the heavens and smiling.

OOOOOOOOOO

One Saturday afternoon in mid-July, Alice and I walked into town. We were meeting Edward and Jasper, who'd both asked for permission to leave work a couple of hours early so that we might go to the new movie theatre that had just opened up in the neighboring town of Hoquiam. Being in a town away from Mother eased my mind somewhat, and as we stood in line, waiting to buy popcorn, Edward and I held hands while the four of us talked about something the boys had read in the papers that day.

"He's asking Congress for approval to expand the Navy now, building new battleships and carriers," Edward said.

Jasper shook his head. "It's all just in case; FDR doesn't want war."

"Jasper, stop being so gullible; you read what it said in that paper." The angry tone of his voice was reflected in how tight his grip had gotten. "The _Luftwaffe_," he spit in disgust, "bombed Wales and Scotland yesterday. It's only a matter of time before they move on to London. Churchill knows it, and FDR knows he's got to get us ready over here."

"He won't get us involved," Jasper insisted.

"How long do you think Britain will last without our help?"

I swallowed thickly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" a shrill, sharp voice suddenly inquired.

I pulled my eyes away from Edward and looked behind us at Jessica and Mike Newton. Jessica's eyes quickly flashed between Edward and me and our joined hands before narrowing and returning to my face.

"We're going to see _Pinocchio_, same as you," Alice snapped.

Jessica said nothing but kept trailing her eyes back and forth between Edward and me.

"Edward, you're courting Bella?" Mike chuckled innocuously. "I didn't know that!"

Already in a foul mood, Edward simply nodded and held my hand tighter. "You two enjoy the movie."

"Yeah, you guys enjoy it too. My buddy tells me the wooden puppet turns into a boy at the end and…"

Edward turned us around, so that we missed the rest of Mike's conversation. But before I did, I caught the tail end of Jessica's disdainful glare.

Once inside the movie, I completely forgot about Jessica and her crooked gaze. The newsreel showed scenes from the destructive German air attacks on France the previous month, as well as the new British Prime Minister's speech a few weeks ago, where he warned his citizens to prepare for a German invasion and promised that despite Great Britain's lone fight, they would never surrender.

Plenty of the young men in the theatre were riled up by both the battle scenes and Churchill's speech, and in the dark, I chanced a look at Edward, who remained silent through the entire reel, but whose hand was practically vibrating inside mine.

His profile was sharpened by the intense set of his square jaw, his nostrils slightly flared.

"You wouldn't go yet, would you?" I asked fearfully.

He swallowed and turned his gaze towards me slowly, sighing with what almost sounded like longing. "I promised you I'd go to college, and I will – as long as none of that comes here."

Then he turned his gaze back to the screen, and I did my best to enjoy the movie about a puppet who wanted to venture out into the world and be a real boy.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was only a few days after that when Papa Phil went to Seattle on business. He would take these trips a few times over the summers to meet with his business associates about affairs that couldn't be handled from the house. Usually, Mother would accompany him during these trips so that she could enjoy at least a few days back in civilization - or so she would say.

This time, she stayed behind.

The morning after Papa Phil left, I'd finished my lessons and was in my room, brushing out my hair and making sure that I looked nice before I left to visit Alice and wait for Edward. When a knock came at my door, Sandy picked up her head and sniffed suspiciously.

"Come in."

Mother walked in holding her early afternoon cocktail. She closed the door behind her, standing sentry by the doorframe.

"Good morning, Isabella. I didn't see you at breakfast this morning."

"Good morning, Mother. I apologize, but when Papa Phil is away, you usually don't come down for breakfast."

She moved further into my room slowly. When she reached the bed, she stared at Sandy, who was at the foot of the bed. Sandy jumped off and went to lie in a corner.

Mother took a seat at the corner of my bed and looked up at me, and I did my best to keep my breathing steady. When I realized that my fingers were moving nervously around the hat I'd been about wear, I set the hat down over the dresser.

"I would've liked for us to have breakfast together this morning and…talked."

"Oh. Well…I'll make sure I'm at breakfast tomorrow morning so that we may talk then."

"Are you in a rush now?"

"I…I finished my lessons and was going to take Sandy by the river and then…"

"And then…?" she prompted.

I swallowed. "And then visit Alice."

"And then visit Alice," she repeated with a nod, holding my gaze. "I had a visit from Mrs. Stanley yesterday while you were off at the river with _Sandy_, and then visiting _Alice_."

"Oh? That's very…interesting."

We locked eyes because by this point, we both knew what was going on. Yet what she didn't know was that I'd already decided one thing a while ago on the night when Edward had confessed his love for me: there was nothing Mother could ever do or say to keep me away from Edward. I would do whatever I had to do; I would cry, I would beg and scream, and if need be, I'd throw myself at Papa Phil's mercy when he returned from Seattle. What I would never do would be allow her to send me away.

Mother chuckled warmly and patted the space next to her. "Come sit next to me, Isabella."

Hesitantly, I moved in closer and took a careful seat at her side, the entire time watching her the way one watches a lion about to pounce.

"I won't stop seeing him."

"Isabella…" she said softly, reaching out to push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm not going to fight you on this, Isabella. It will do no use; I know that very well. You and I…we're very much alike in that we tend to dig our feet in when we're being challenged."

Her words afforded me no relief whatsoever, neither did the tender way in which she ran her hand through the length of my hair. Instead, I swallowed and waited.

"For a while now, I've suspected this would happen." She sighed. "The way you've always look up at him as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders. He's grown into a very handsome young man, Isabella. I'll give you that." She took a sip from her drink. "I met a handsome young man like him once, when I wasn't much older than you..."

Despite my apprehension, my brows furrowed in curiosity, especially when her eyes glazed over and took on a faraway look. She moved her gaze to a spot beyond me, out the windows and past the magnificent mountains.

"My _mother_, she fought me about him from the very beginning, told me I'd regret it, that with my beauty, I needed to hold out for more, even if we were struggling at the time. But I wanted _him_ more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life, and so I dug in my feet and refused to let him go. Of course, she refused him permission to court me. It got so bad that she would lock me up in the house for days at a time. And on the day that I turned eighteen…" - as if breaking out of a trance, she quickly brought her eyes back to me - "on that day, to spite my mother, I married him."

To this day, I don't know how I managed to hold back the tears, how the ache in my chest didn't rip me in two.

"And you know what, Isabella?" She smiled sadly. "Mother was right. I should've held off. It didn't take me long to figure that one out. Oh, your father was handsome and...exciting; I'll grant you that, but excitement doesn't last long, Isabella, especially when you're stuck in a two-room shack for a home. No, I was meant for much more, and once I got myself together and figured that out, I got us both out of there. I got us this better life that-"

"I never asked for any of this," I hissed shakily. "I was happy with Dad."

"Really?" she asked, arching a brow. "Yet I see you enjoying all the pretty things this life affords you very well. You have a wonderful education; you've traveled to places most girls your age only dream of seeing, you dress impeccably, and you wear your jewels quite proudly. Why even now, you're dressed in one of your prettiest outfits, getting ready to go see _him_."

My lips trembled. My eyes stung viciously, but even if I'd wanted to refute any of her words, my throat was suddenly too constricted to speak.

"Isabella, I didn't come in here to argue with you," she said softly. "I'm not going to make the same mistake my mother made with me."

And despite everything, her words, the gentleness of her voice, they made me hope.

"I won't stand in your way while you see that boy this summer. You're young. You're infatuated, and I know only too well what trying to get in the way of that type of infatuation will do. Unlike my mother, I trust that you're smart enough to tire of him on your own by the time this summer is over because a boy like that, Isabella, with absolutely nothing to offer, can't possibly hold your interest for very long."

"I love him," I said, my voice choked with emotion but strong.

Mother simply nodded. "I know you think you do, but you're an intelligent child, Isabella, and you're much more like me than you care to admit."

"I'm _nothing_ like you," I hissed.

"Look in the mirror," she said. "You're exactly like me. Either way, all I'm going to ask of you is one thing."

She waited, and I forced myself to swallow around the lump in my throat.

"What is it?"

"Keep your legs closed."

I gasped sharply.

Mother sighed and took another sip from her drink. "There's no delicate way to put it. You're almost sixteen, Isabella, and you know to what I'm referring. If you must get this out of your system, go ahead and do so, but do _not_ do something that will trap you for an eternity to someone of no value. Once you let him put a baby in you," she scowled, "it makes it much harder to free yourself."

This time, a tear did slide down my cheek. Mother reached out and tenderly wiped it off before cupping my cheek in her jewel-encrusted hand.

"I only tell you these things because you're my child, and I love you. I want the best for you, Isabella. I want you to marry someone of value."

"Someone like Peter," I spit angrily.

She locked me in her cool, blue eyes. "Yes. Someone exactly like Peter."

Another tear rolled down my cheek. She wiped that one off as well before suddenly standing and heading for the door.

"Now go. I'm sure he's waiting for you. Have your fun this summer if you must, but remember what I said." She turned once more to look at me, and sighed. "Someday, Isabella, you'll thank me for having this talk with you."

And with that, she opened the door and stepped out.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Song # 24 – The Starlit Hour (1940) by Ella Fitzgerald:**

**But tonight, let us forget tomorrow****  
****Here under the midnight blue****  
****Love will bloom and flower****  
****In the starlit hour with you**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you guys on Thursday!****  
**


	24. Chapter 23 - The End of Summer (1940)

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 23 - The End of Summer (1940)**

##########

Isabella stops the swing and tenderly rests her hands on my shoulders. I lift one of my own to wrap around hers.

"Nana," she breathes. "Great-Grandma Renee…well, I understand she must've had hard times, but…"

"But she was a snobby bitch," Olivia blurts.

"Olivia!" Isabella scolds.

"Seriously, Mom?" Olivia retorts. "You've always taught us that what matters about a person is what's inside someone's heart, not how much money he or she has or doesn't have, or how that person dresses or speaks.

"Your mom's a smart lady," I wink.

"That's something I learned from my own mom." Isabella gazes warmly at Leah.

"And I learned it from mine." Leah smiles at me.

"But how did _you_ learn that, Nana," Skye inquires, "when your own mother wasn't exactly…the warm and fuzzy kind?"

"Well I was very lucky in that I had many people around me during the summer months who knew exactly what mattered, and who were patient enough to teach me…"

##########

A few days after Mother's talk with me, her words still circled around in my head, though I tried my best not to dwell on them. If nothing else, I knew that she was wrong about my love for Edward. It wasn't a passing fancy, an infatuation born of the summer days or something of which I'd soon grow bored.

No, it wasn't my love for him that I doubted. The ache in my heart was due to thoughts of Dad and of how much I knew he'd once loved Mother…how much I suspected he still did. And I thought of how…had I not come along, she would've probably left him sooner than she did.

What did that make me: a blessing or a curse?

And deep down…it was Mother's firm assurance that I was just like her that terrified me.

OOOOOOOOOO

One night in early August, I was in the Cullen's kitchen, helping to clean up after dinner. Actually, I was doing most of the cleaning because Alice had snuck out the back door with Jasper. Rose and Masen were visiting Rose's mother, and Esme, Carlisle and Edward were in the living room listening to the radio.

The kitchen radio was on low, and I was humming to myself while wiping down the table when I felt Edward's arms slide around my waist. He placed a soft, warm kiss on the base of my neck, and I turned in his arms.

"Sorry I left you alone." He grinned, but his eyes were dark and clouded. "The reporters were talking about the Luftwaffe's new strategy. They've more or less stopped bombing convoys in the English Channel and are now hitting airfields around the country."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Looks like most of the aircraft destroyed were on the ground but about twelve were in the air. The Brits have a few reported dead, but it looks like the Nazis lost more," he sneered.

"All those poor men," I murmured.

"Even the Nazis?"

"They have families too, Edward; people who will miss them terribly."

Edward nodded pensively. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you."

I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head on his chest. "You're not the one upsetting me. I just feel badly for the people who are being left behind to worry or mourn over their loved ones. It's got to be horrific."

"That damn maniac," he growled, and I could feel the reverberation of his ire against his chest. "They should've stopped him when they had the chance."

For a few minutes, we just stood there, holding one another while the kitchen radio played lowly in the background.

Then very gently, Edward reached down and brought my eyes up to his. "Bella, what's wrong? You've seemed…out of sorts for the past few days."

"There's nothing wrong," I assured him.

He narrowed his eyes, holding my gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nodded.

His eyes searched mine, and though his brows furrowed dubiously, he nodded before disentangling himself from my arms and walking towards the back door.

"Alright. Let me go find Alice and Jasper and see if we're still going to play Monopoly. Mama and Pop want to-"

"Edward, what do you see when you look at me?"

He turned around. "What?"

"Tell me what you see when you look at me."

He took two long steps towards me, confusion clearly spelled out in his expression. Breathing deeply, he raked a hand through his hair.

"Well, you're beautiful, Bella. You've got the prettiest golden eyes, and your hair is long and wavy. And your skin, it's soft and perfect. And-"

"Is that all you see?"

Edward swallowed. "Uh…no. I mean…" – he raked another hand through his hair – "what do you mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind." I turned around and busied myself with untying Alice's apron from around my neck and waist.

"Bella-"

"I'll go find Alice and Jasper." I needed to get away, and besides, knowing those two, it would probably be best if I found them rather than Edward.

But I only managed two steps into the dark, summer evening before Edward pulled me back and carefully pressed me against the cedar shingles, caging me in between his arms.

Hesitantly, I lifted my eyes to his.

"May I try again?" His voice was low and pleading, so slowly, I bobbed my head.

"When I look at you…I see a girl who'd throw herself into a river to save her dog without a second thought. I see a girl who accompanies my mother and sister into soup kitchens without seeking any special attention. I see a girl whose quick thinking leaves me tongue-tied. I see a girl who laughs openly and makes others laugh the same way. I see a girl who's so honest it hurts sometimes," he chuckled. "I see a girl whose heart hurts for men thousands of miles away whom she doesn't even know." He took my hand and placed it on his face. "I see a girl whose touch is so soft and tender that it feels like being caressed by clouds. I see a girl whose love makes me…whole." He paused. "Yes, Bella, I see beauty in you…in _so_ many ways."

I wrapped my arms around him and drew in a long, ragged breath.

"I don't want to be like her," I whispered.

"My sweet, silly and _beautiful_ girl," he chuckled, stroking my hair. "You're not like her. You're nothing like her."

"I look like her."

Edward lifted my eyes up to meet his. "You do look like her," he admitted, gently brushing his fingers over my face, "here. But here…" – he dropped his hand and lay his palm over my heart – "here, you're all Bella. I won't deny that I find you…absolutely gorgeous, Bella, but you're so much more than outer beauty."

"What if I turn into her someday?"

He held my gaze steadily. "That's not even possible. And besides, I wouldn't let it happen," he grinned.

I chuckled. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For always knowing what I need."

He dropped his gaze to the space between us before lifting only his eyes, gazing at me longingly through dark eyelashes.

His eyes wandered between my eyes and mouth. "I bet I know what you need now."

"Do you?" I grinned. "And how is that?"

"Because I need the same thing," he breathed before pressing his soft lips to mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

The last few weeks of that summer passed very quickly indeed, especially as I was set to leave Washington in late August rather than early September since I'd come to Forks earlier this summer for Rose and Masen's wedding and bypassed my visit to Dad. And though I'd missed my dad and looked forward to seeing him, I couldn't deny the ache in my chest at the thought of parting from Edward.

No longer concerned with hiding our relationship from Mother, I spent every possible moment at the Cullen's during those last few weeks, even foregoing my lessons. Edward and I made anxious plans to write and call as much as possible. What's more, he was already trying to figure out a way to come see me during his winter break.

We were in Carlisle's office late one afternoon, and I was helping Edward wipe down the cages, just like I'd done as a young girl.

"Perhaps the winter after next, if you can make the trip, then we can meet in Chicago, and I can introduce you to my dad," I suggested.

Edward didn't answer right away.

"Do you think your dad would be okay with that? He may not be too happy about a nineteen-year-old guy courting his little girl."

"Edward, you'll be nineteen by then, but _I'll_ be seventeen! Honestly, it's only two years!" I laughed because sometimes he treated our age difference as if it consisted of decades.

He smirked. "Okay, okay. I'd just rather not be on the receiving end of a rifle."

With a snort, I made my way over to him and slid my hands around his narrow waist. "I promise you, my dad is a peaceful man. He won't shoot you – at least not without provocation."

He pursed his lips and pulled me closer. "Without provocation, huh? Would this be provocation?" He pressed his mouth to my forehead.

I shook my head, grinning.

"No? How about this?" He pressed his warm lips to my cheek.

Again, I shook my head.

"No? Okay, good. How about…this?" His lips grazed the side of my mouth and lingered there.

"That might raise his brows," I conceded.

"Would it?" he murmured, his warm breath washing over me. "Then he probably wouldn't like it at all if I did this in front of him." He shifted slightly and when his mouth met mine, he parted my lips with his tongue, slowly and rhythmically stroking mine.

Sighing, I pulled away for air and laughed. "I wouldn't suggest doing _that_ in front of him. He may shoot you for _that_."

Edward chuckled, but then he gazed at me much more seriously. "He's known Jacob since he was a kid. He may root for him."

"He won't, Edward," I assured him. "My dad's not like that. He's going to love you, and you're going to love him."

"Well, I already love his daughter…with all my heart and soul."

OOOOOOOOOO

There was a radio show that had started just that summer, and Alice and I had gotten quite into it. It was called _The Abbott and Costello Show,_ and between the guests and comedy routines, Alice and I would be in stitches from beginning to end.

Early one early afternoon just a few days before I was due to depart, Alice and I were hanging up the wash on the clothesline in the back of the house while Sandy ran around and nipped the damp clothing out of the basket.

"Sandy, give that back!" Alice cried our for about the umpteenth time, laughing. With a sigh, she turned to me. "Alright, let's try this again. Ready?" She held one of Esme's dresses up to the clothes line while I fastened it with a couple of pins.

"Yes, I'm ready," I chuckled.

"Okay, here we go once more. You throw the ball to first base," she said in her best Abbott imitation.

"Then Who gets it?" I responded in my best Costello voice.

"Naturally."

"Naturally."

"Now you've got it."

"I throw the ball to Naturally."

"You don't! You throw it to Who!"

"To Who?"

"No, Bella!" Alice cried, dropping the laundry basket over the grass in exasperation. "You're supposed to say, 'Naturally!'"

I fell on my knees and burst into fits. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I keep getting that mixed up!"

"We'll never be able to get our Vaudeville show on the road if you can't get that straight," she grinned.

"Oh yes, Mother would absolutely love that!" I said, making us both laugh all the more.

When a piece of damp clothing hit me in the face, I removed it and held it up in front of me, cocking my head and grinning as I studied it.

"_You_ hang up those," Alice teased. "It'll be your job to wash those for him soon enough anyway."

We giggled like a couple of silly girls.

"Girls?"

I gasped sharply and quickly crumpled up Edward's damp underwear, hiding it behind my back.

Esme appeared from behind the clothesline. "There you are," she smiled.

"We were just hanging up the laundry," I blurted guiltily.

Alice snorted.

"Thank you, Girls," Esme nodded. "Alice, Sweetheart, will you do me a favor and go get supper started? I'll help Bella finish up here and then we'll be in."

"Yes, Ma'am," Alice responded.

As soon as Alice walked off, Sandy snatched Edward's shorts out of my hands, and carrying them in her mouth, deposited them at Esme's feet.

My face flamed bright red, but Esme simply picked up the shorts and put them back in the basket. Bypassing Edward's underwear, she held up one of Carlisle's shirts to the line instead, and I fastened it, my face burning.

"Are you looking forward to seeing your dad?" she asked, thankfully ignoring my faux pas.

"Yes, Ma'am, very much so; although…"

She held up a skirt to the line now, keeping her eyes on me.

"Although…you'll miss Edward."

"Yes, Ma'am," I smiled sadly. "Very much."

"He'll miss you, too," she said softly. "We all will."

Esme cupped my cheek, and I remember marveling at how, though Mother's hand had been gentle when she'd done the same a few weeks ago, it had brought none of the warmth that Esme's touch brought.

"You're very special to all of us, Bella; I hope you know that."

"Thank you, Esme. You're all so special to me."

"We haven't spent much time together this summer, and I do understand why. Between Alice and Edward, neither one ever wants to share you!" she chuckled, returning to her chore. "You're no longer little children who always need a Mama around," she said, and with a wistful sigh, her shoulders rose and fell. "I suppose I have to accept that. I just want to make sure you haven't forgotten that you can come to me at any time, about anything. You're like a daughter to me, Bella, and I'm here if you ever need me."

Unable to answer right away, I swallowed thickly and dropped my head to the softly swaying grass.

"Bella, Sweetheart, pass me a-"

"Esme, can a child ever be a mistake?"

Esme set down the trousers over the basket and reached for my hand. "Let's sit."

We took a seat over the warm grass, and I watched her draw in a deep breath.

"Bella, how much do you know about how a child is made?"

"I do know how they're made, Ma'am. They explained it to us at Miss Tudor's. And Mother has already warned me to keep my legs closed."

Esme's eyes grew wide, but she quickly wiped the shock off of her expression and took both my hands in hers.

"Was this…in regards to a conversation about Edward?"

I nodded slowly. "She said…my feelings are only an infatuation, but I know they're not, Esme. I know they're not."

When my voice broke, Esme quickly wrapped her arms around me. "Sweetheart, I think I understand what your mama was trying to say, but…would you mind terribly if I tried to put it in my own words?"

I shook my head. She pushed a few strands of hair out of my face, holding my gaze.

"Bella, you and Edward…you're both very young, and I know you're both deeply in love, not merely infatuated. I know what that love can feel like at such a tender age. I also know the ache of knowing that the one you love will soon be far away. You want to give him the world, but real and true love, Bella, doesn't ask for anything and doesn't expect anything. Real and true love will wait and will still be there when you return. Everything comes in its own time, when you're _both_ ready in every possible way. It's borne out of respect and faith, not out of fear of separation. And a child…a child is a blessing-"

"Always?" I asked.

"Always," she assured me, "_but_…it's also a huge responsibility. You want to be able to give that child the best of everything, yet unless you're ready - and I don't mean simply financially, though of course that's an important consideration - unless you're ready _here_ most importantly of all," – she placed her palm over my heart the way her son had done just a couple of weeks back – "it will be a long and hard road for the child and for the parents."

I nodded. "But what if…what if you do make that child, and then you decide that the person you made that child with isn't the right one? Does _that_ make the child a mistake?"

She shook her head, and her eyes, so like Edward's and Masen's, held mine intently.

"Even then, Bella, the child will _never_ be a mistake. A child should never bear the weight of its parents' errors. A child is meant to be loved, protected, and cherished through all, always, even if…even if the relationship that created that child doesn't work out."

"Like the relationship between my parents didn't work out."

"Like any relationship between two people who once loved…and lost." She sighed. "Bella, _you_ are loved, by your parents, by Edward, by Carlisle, by Phil…by all of us. Don't ever doubt that for one moment."

I held on to her tightly, burying my face in her soft chest as I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

OOOOOOOOOO

_On the night before I was due to leave Forks, Edward and I lay on a blanket by the river._

_The few stars that fought their way through the Washington clouds sparkled defiantly in the black sky. Crickets chirped quietly in the background. Frogs croaked on the banks of the water. The wind rustled through the leaves, and those first few leaves that had already begun falling off their branches crackled under us while Edward carefully laid his warm body over mine. He held himself up on his elbows while kissing me with a desperation that left me breathless. Whenever his mouth left mine, it trailed over my face and down to my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone before tracing a path back to my lips._

"_I don't want to leave you," I murmured, fisting his hair tightly. "It was too short…this summer. It was too short."_

"_Way too short," he agreed, crashing his mouth to mine once more while his hands lost themselves in my hair, caressing my scalp. "But I'll write you every day, Bella. Every single day." He punctuated every sentence with a kiss. "I'll call you at school as much as possible."_

"_It's not enough," I shook my head. "It'll be months before I see you and…I need you. I need you, Edward…"_

_Guiding his mouth back to mine, I wrapped my arms around his back and urged him closer, pulling him in when he resisted. His arms tightened around me, hands splaying across my lower back, and fingers pressing into the lower grooves of my spine, and suddenly, his entire body molded itself to mine in a way it never had before._

_Edward pulled away and looked down at me through dark, hooded eyes. His chest heaved, and I knew that, as before, this would be when he'd lift himself off of me completely and put an end to what we were doing._

_But instead, he dropped over me once more and resumed where we'd left off._

"_Edward…" I sighed into his mouth, holding him tightly to me._

"_Bella, I…I shouldn't, but you…you feel so…"_

_Quickly, he sat up and brought me with him so that I straddled his lap. I gasped when my dress rode up over my thighs, and suddenly his hands were everywhere: in my hair, cradling my face, pressed and wandering over my back. He brought them to my hips and held me hard against his lap, and then he began a rhythmic rocking motion that matched the motion of our tongues, groaning when I pressed myself closer to him, so close we were almost connected everywhere. When a strange, deep need started growing inside me…concentrating itself near my stomach and making me break out into a feverish sweat, I arched my back and sighed his name, trying to get impossibly closer..._

"_Edward…Edward…" I held his head pressed to my collarbone where his mouth sucked heatedly on my skin, but something was still missing; somewhere, I was still aching. Desperately needing that something, I took his hand and began guiding it upwards to one of the many places where I tingled for his touch._

_And that was when Edward hastily and abruptly lifted me off of him, depositing me carefully at his side._

_I gazed at him in total bewilderment, not exactly sure what had just happened. All I knew was that I'd been close to…something, and I wasn't ready for any of it to end._

"_Please," I begged, reaching for his hand while my heart raced in my chest. "Just one touch. Just one," I breathed. "Please."_

"_Bella…" he choked in a pained whisper, taking me in through frenzied eyes. He cupped my cheek tenderly. "Bella, no, not yet."_

"_Why? I'm not asking for more - just this. I don't want to make a baby yet, but we'll be so far away from each other for so long…."_

_He shut his eyes, pinching them together as if fighting an inner demon._

_When he reopened his eyes, his smile was wistful._

"_No."_

_I couldn't help it. A tear rolled down my cheek._

_He cradled my face, kneeling before me. "Don't cry, Sweetheart," he pleaded. "Bella…you have no idea how much I want to…how badly I want to touch you. It kills me that we'll be apart, and some part of me just wants to-" He inhaled sharply with the confession. "But I won't do that to you, Bella. You're too important. You're everything. And I made a promise to you…and to myself: Not. Yet."_

"_Then when?" I knew I sounded like a petulant child, and I suppose, in some way, that's exactly what I was being._

_Looking much more composed and in control, he pressed his mouth to mine softly with none of the crazed urgency of a few minutes earlier. "Next summer," he whispered against my mouth. "Next summer, Bella, if you still want me, then I would be honored if you allowed me to touch you…" - his mouth ghosted over my face - "…if you allow me, I'll caress you and touch you everywhere you want to be caressed."_

_His words rose goose bumps all over my body, and a strange, little whimpering noise escaped me. I closed my eyes._

_When I reopened them, he was gazing at me tenderly._

"_Bella, the only thing that'll keep me from going to see you this winter is death itself."_

"_Don't say that," I frowned. My heart rate was beginning to return to something resembling normalcy – or what had become normal this summer whenever I was around Edward._

_He chuckled. "You know what I mean." His finger traced my eyes, my nose, my lips, and his eyes followed the trail as if he were trying to memorize my every feature. "Next summer, you'll be almost seventeen, almost done with school, and if you still love me-"_

"_Of course I'll still love you!" I growled._

"_If you still love me," he repeated with a smirk, "maybe…we can start making plans…"_

"_What sort of plans?"_

_He grinned. "We'll talk about it next year. I told you, I don't want to scare you so early into our courtship."_

_When I pursed my lips, he laughed._

_With the passionately wild tension dissolving, we kissed much more chastely and talked for another half hour._

"_Edward…what we did before, the way we…moved together, I'll be dreaming about that for months."_

_Edward swallowed and was silent for a few seconds. Then he snorted. "And I'll have something new to replace the dream I used to have of kissing you while you were unconscious."_

_We laughed and hand in hand, with Sandy leading the way, we walked back towards the large evergreen._

##########

"Nana?"

"Mama?"

I draw in a deep breath and sigh.

"What were you just thinking, Nana?" Olivia asks, but I just shake my head as Isabella gently swings me back and forth.

"Just…remembering."

"Well remember out loud," Skye orders with a frown.

Isabella leans over, close to my face. The private, crooked grin she gives me makes me think she may be guessing at some of my equally private memories.

She chuckles softly. "Ready to continue?"

"Yes," I smile back. "I am."

##########

I stood on the porch with Mother and Papa Phil and gave Mother a light kiss on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Mother."

She smiled at me. "Goodbye, Isabella, Darling. Have a good trip. We'll see each other in a few months, and…talk."

We silently held each other's gaze for a few seconds before I turned to Papa Phil.

He grinned warmly and pulled me to him. "It was a good summer here with you, Isabella."

"Yes, Sir. It was a very good summer," I smiled.

There was something knowing in the look he gave me: a small smirk full of comprehension.

"Have a good time in Chicago. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Papa. I will."

OOOOOOOOOO

While Felix played with the radio dials on the way to the train station, I gazed out of the window, watching the Washington landscape whir by in shades of brown and green…_so_ much green…

"_This was reported last night live from Trafalgar Square in London by correspondent Edward Murrow: This is Trafalgar Square. The noise that you hear at the moment is the sound of the air raid sirens. I'm standing here just on the steps of St. Martin in the Field's. A searchlight just burst into action off in the distance. One single beam sweeping the sky above me now. People are walking along quite quietly. We're just at the entrance of an air raid shelter here, and I must move this cable over just a bit so that people can walk in. I can see just straight away in front of me Lord Nelson on top of that big column…there's another searchlight just square behind Nelson's statue. Here comes one of those big, red busses around the corner…double-deckers they are, just a few lights in the top deck. In this blackness it looks very much like a ship that's passing in the night, and you just see the porthole. There goes another bus, more searchlights come into action. You see them reach straight up into the sky, and occasionally they catch a cloud and seem to splash in the bottom of it. I'll just…ooze down in the darkness along these steps and see if I can pick up the sound of people's feet as they walk along…one of the strangest sounds one can hear in London these days, or rather these dark nights, just the sound of footsteps walking along the streets, like ghosts shod with steel shoes…"_

"_That was Edward Murrow reporting from London late last night, right before that city was attacked by the German Luftwaffe-"_

"London was attacked?" I cried.

Felix met my eyes through the rearview mirror. "Yes, Ms. Dwyer. Late last night, the Germans dropped them bombs right into the heart of London. They're still not sure how many people were killed."

My mouth dropped in utter horror.

Felix stared at me warily. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dwyer. Perhaps I shouldn't have…"

He reached out and shut off the radio.

OOOOOOOOOO

When we reached the train station, Felix went to get the porters, and I was escorted through the station by them. All around me, I could hear people's murmured voices.

"His hands are tied because of those damned elections in November!"

"It's none of our business anyway. We've got to stay out of it!"

"Do you really believe he's keeping us neutral? We're giving the Brits fifty old destroyers in exchange for land rights in the Caribbean! Does that sound like neutrality to you?

"Bella!"

I whipped around.

Edward was striding quickly towards me, hat in hand.

"Edward!"

I took off running, and when I reached him, he swept me off the ground, holding me so close my lungs felt as if they'd collapse, especially when his mouth covered mine.

When we finally pulled away, he stroked the space under my eye. "You've been crying."

"The radio…they were talking about what happened in London. All those poor people, and I wished you were here, so I could know what you were thinking, and I could tell you what I felt, but you had to work." My words were garbled because at some point, I'd started crying again. "You're supposed to be at work."

"I had to see you again before you left," he said, raining urgent kisses all over my face. "Jesus, I just had to see you, Bella."

Edward set me down, cradling my face in his hands, gazing at me as if I were the only person in this entire, busy train terminal – as if I were the only person in the world.

"I'll write you every thought I have: the good ones and the bad ones…every single one. And I want to know about every thought you have - everything that makes you laugh and everything that makes you cry."

"Okay," I said, tears streaming down my face and rolling into my mouth. "Okay."

"And come hell or high water, I _will_ come see you before Christmas."

"I have a very strict schedule at Miss Tudor's."

"I don't care - even if I can only see you for a few hours, okay?"

"Okay."

He grinned crookedly. "We'll figure it out, Bella. We'll figure it all out. I love you with everything I've got, Bella Dwyer. Don't you ever forget that."

"I love you too, Edward," I sobbed. "Forever."

He walked me to my gate, and we fit in as much talking and kissing as possible before the conductor announced the "All aboard!" When I boarded, I quickly went to the window and lowered it as the whistle blew and the wheels began turning, slowly pulling me away from Forks and from Edward and from the best summer I'd ever had.

"True and loyal hearts, Bella!" he called out, pressing his palm to his heart. "They never forget!"

My tears flowed freely, and I mouthed back, "Never."

And I stood there watching him until he was just a point in the distance, and then…he was out of sight.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**A couple of people have wondered how I'd show the more…tender moments between Edward and Bella, since Bella is basically telling the story to her granddaughters. Now you have an idea. ;)**

**AOI Playlist Song # 25: **_**It's a Blue World**_** (1940) by Glenn Miller:**

_**It's a blue world without you  
It's a blue world alone  
My days and nights  
That once were filled with heaven  
With you away how empty they have grown**_

*****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED:*****

**The radio announcement in this chapter from Edward R. Murrow is an actual radio transcript from a live report given by Mr. Murrow on the night of August 24th, 1940. On this night, Luftwaffe bombers aiming for military targets on the outskirts of London drifted off course and instead dropped their bombs on the center of London, destroying several homes and killing civilians. Believing it was a deliberate attack, Prime Minister Winston Churchill ordered Berlin to be bombed the next evening. The Nazis were outraged. Beginning on September 7, 1940, and for a total of 57 consecutive nights, London was continuously bombed. This was the beginning of the Blitz – a period of intense bombing of London and other cities. Residents sought shelter in warehouse basements and underground stations where they slept on makeshift beds shoulder to shoulder with strangers. The London Blitz lasted eight, horrifying months, finally ending the following May.**

*****And just as a reminder, voting for Top Ten Fics of 2014 continues through 2/28 for those interested in voting: TWIFANFICTIONRECS dot com.**

**Have a great weekend, Guys! See you Monday!**


	25. Chapter 24 - Letters of 1940

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your continued thoughts. I'm very late today. I can give you excuses, or we can just get on with it. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 24 – Letters of 1940**

August 25, 1940:

My dearest Edward,

It hasn't even been an hour since I left you at the train station, and already I feel an emptiness so deep in my heart I fear I may drown in it. The sight of you standing there as the train pulled out burns behind my lids, and though I'm trying desperately to replace it with visions of any other moment we spent together this summer, leaving you is all I see right now; it's all I feel…

...

August 25, 1940:

My beautiful Bella,

It's only been a few hours since I last saw you, yet it already feels like ages: like months spent in a desert without water, like I'm underwater in a river and can't resurface. How am I supposed to bear months without you, without seeing your beautiful face, without touching your soft skin or feeling the warmth of your lips?

...

August 26, 1940:

My dearest Edward,

It's been a full day since I left King Street Station, yet the pain of our separation hasn't diminished one bit. If anything, as the train left behind the majestic mountains of Washington early this morning and crossed into the peaks of Idaho, this ache in my chest simply intensified. Am I breathing, Edward? How can I be breathing when we're not even in the same state any longer? It's stupid; I know, as if being in the same state makes any difference when we're not together. Do you miss me as I miss you? Do you yearn for my kisses with the hunger with which I yearn for yours?

...

August 26, 1940:

My beautiful Bella,

I think I may be losing my mind. How is it possible that I could miss you this much? I'm lost Bella, lost in the very place where I've spent my entire life. I find myself walking around aimlessly, unaware of which direction is what. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of you and of the most wonderful summer I ever had in my life. And yet it's all these reminders that are clouding my head. Right now, I'm in my room staring out of my window, and I swear that I see you by the evergreen tree, swinging on the tire swing back and forth while your skirt billows in the breeze. Now you're lying on the warm grass with your long hair splayed all around you like silk strands of chestnut melting into the grass. Your golden eyes sparkle in the setting sun. Your laughter carries in the wind, drifting in through the open window, and I'm not sure if it's my imagination or if you're really out there like the woodland nymph I always imagined you to be. I think I may actually be losing my mind.

...

August 27, 1940:

My dearest Edward,

This morning, we're stopping in Montana, and I'll be posting three letters to you - one for each day of our separation. Right now, I sit by the window eating the morning pastries that have been brought to me as I gaze out at the ever-changing landscape of green mountains and forests. Beyond the mountains, I see white glaciers reflecting off of sparkling lakes, valleys and plains once again rich in brown soil, and I wish you were here to see it all with me. There was a river earlier, magnificent and flowing with gentle peaks of whitewater, and it stole every last breath of air from my lungs because I saw us sitting by it, laughing and kissing while Sandy jumped in and out and shook herself off over us. I wish to God I had you both next to me right now…

...

August 27 1940:

My beautiful Bella,

By now, you should be close to Chicago. I find myself constantly praying that your trip has been expeditious and pleasant, and that you arrive to your father safe and sound. You asked me not to write you in Chicago until you have an opportunity to speak to your father about us, so I'm directing all my letters to the address you gave me for your school. Still, you promised to call as soon as you could, and I confess that I find myself extremely anxious tonight, waiting to hear from you in one form or another. I'm so grateful, Bella, that all the madness going on with Hitler and the Nazi's is far away, that the bombs raining down are nowhere near you and that you can sleep securely and without danger wherever you are right now. I know what you'd say if you were here with me now. You'd say "those poor people; they have families too, Edward." You have such a caring, kind and compassionate heart, Sweetheart, but having you so far from me, not being near you, unable to take care of you and protect you, it's driving me crazy. You are my priority, my first responsibility, my most cherished being, and if something every happened to you

No, I won't even finish that thought, and as I write this, I wonder if perhaps these are all things I shouldn't be saying to you, worries of mine I shouldn't concern you with, but I promised to give you all my thoughts, the good and the bad. It's been almost four days now since I last saw you or spoke to you, and I won't lie; it has me in a horrible mood…

...

September 1, 1940:

My dear Edward,

I dreamed of you last night.

I dream of you every night, but last night, I dreamed of our final night together in Forks, by the river. Do you remember that night? Do you think of it as much as I do, or am I the only one who constantly wonders what would've come next? I did tell you that it would be in my dreams for months to come, didn't I? I suppose the loneliness and longing I'm feeling from our separation is manifesting itself in my dreams.

You've accused me of sometimes being so honest it hurts, and I apologize if what I'm about to confess hurts you, but hearing your voice again, Edward, was both heaven and hell: heaven because the sound of your voice was like listening to an angel greet me after a long absence in purgatory and hell because you're far away and because with my father in the room with me, I couldn't say all the things I wanted to say. Until you meet my father next year, there's no point in concerning him by telling him I have a beau…

...

September 8, 1940:

My beautiful Bella,

By now you should be on your way back to New York for school, and I pray that you have a safe trip. I'm worried, I won't deny that. Those damned Nazis. Damn them to hell and back. They're estimating over 400 civilians dead in London's East End just from yesterday's raid. I hope Churchill strikes back hard. I hope he sends the RAF into the heart of the Nazis and makes them pay twice over for every single life lost in those nightly raids, for every life lost in that damned war.

I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I shouldn't be writing you about these things. I should only use my pen to tell you of beautiful things - to give you my parents' love as they continuously ask of me or to tell you that Jasper has found himself a German Shepherd he's calling Gus and that Gus gets along well with Sandy. Maybe I should only tell you that Sandy is healthy and happy though she wanders outside sometimes and looks off into the horizon, searching…

The truth is that up until the news reports came in this morning, I've done nothing but work and carry around your letters in my pocket so that I can pull them out and reread them whenever I get a chance. Among everything else, I blame Hitler for depriving me of that joy this morning.

Stupid of me I know – to hate the man for stealing the joy of your letters when there's so much more for which to hate him.

I leave for Seattle in two days, Bella. Part of me thinks it'll be easier to bear our separation once I'm away from here and away from so many things that remind me of you. Part of me thinks (hopes) that the distraction of a new place and new classes will make it easier as well. But the greater part of me neither believes it nor wants it…

...

September 18, 1940:

My dear Edward,

I'm wearing the silver posts you sent me for my birthday. I haven't taken them off since the day I received them. Every time I touch my ears and feel them, my entire body warms all over with feelings of such overwhelming love that I can hardly describe it. As I told you on the telephone when you called for my birthday, you didn't have to get me anything my love - but I do treasure them so. They're lovely, and they're from you, and when the girls here ask me where I got them, I proudly declare that my beau gave them to me for my sixteenth birthday.

As I told you over the telephone, Mother was attempting to plan a party for me, something "small" she said, only for "intimate" friends she insisted, claiming that a girl's sixteenth birthday should not go uncelebrated. But Papa Phil thwarted her once more be telling her that with what's happening in London right now, throwing a party would be _déclassé_. So that was that.

Either way, I wouldn't have shown up, Edward. I wouldn't have.

But let's not speak of Mother right now. It makes me so happy to know you've enjoyed this past week: your first week as a college man. I'm also glad Masen is there with you to keep you from getting too homesick. I know I promised not to hold you back when you're ready to enlist, but I won't deny that I'm relieved that the conscriptions announced yesterday will only affect men between the ages of 21 and 35. I pray that the day you join is still far enough away for this war in Europe to be done. The continuous raids over London have everyone on edge. You call me good and caring, but Edward, it's _your_ compassionate heart that makes you so angry with the Nazis and with the news of so many innocent people losing their lives and homes. It's heartbreaking for everyone.

I worry for Jacob too, Edward. I won't deny that either. He's written me once since I returned to school, and I'll tell you what he wrote. In summary, he wrote of some of the places he visited on his last shore leave, a description of his ship, a funny event that transpired with one of his fellow servicemen, and then he went on to say that he won't be home this Christmas but hopes to be home for at least a week next Christmas. Now, I'll tell you what I wrote back. In summary, I asked him to please be careful, I told him that his friends sound fun; I also said that it would be great to him at Christmas.

No, Edward, I didn't tell him about us, but he didn't mention anything about him and me either. I promise you that if he makes any mention of a relationship between the two of us, then I'll tell him about us. Perhaps he's changed his mind. I truly hope he has. I simply don't want to cause him any grief or distractions while he's off serving our country.

...

October 16, 1940:

My beautiful Bella:

I took my first Physics exam today. I don't know what else to say about that other than my performance in this class will determine whether I want to continue on this Pre-Engineering path or try something else. Honestly, that Business major is looking more appealing lately.

Sweetheart, as I keep telling you, please don't worry about what's going to happen after college. I'm here now, and I'll do my best because I want to be the best I can be for you and give your mother less of a reason to oppose us in the future. Bella, I won't deny that part of me itches to run out of here and go face all those madmen running rampant in the world. First Hitler and now Italy and Japan are invading countries from Africa to Asia and calling themselves the "Axis Powers." What the hell is that? Sometimes, Bella, I envy your friend Jacob off in the Pacific. But then I remember what he doesn't have here and what I do.

Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. I do understand why you haven't told him about us. I really do. Your compassionate heart won't allow you to hurt him while he's so far away, and I understand and admire that about you, but sometimes understanding with your head and your heart aren't the same.

I don't want to speak of the Jacob issue right now. You're too far away, and I miss you too damn much to allow Jacob to dictate the topic of our letters.

I don't know, Bella. How do I explain the things I'm feeling to you? It was so much easier this summer, when you were with me. You always figured out what I was thinking, even when I managed to trip over my own tongue. But over the telephone or in a letter, how do I let you see into my heart so that you can understand that there's nothing in this entire world more important to me than you, yet I also feel this need, this calling to serve? I hope you understand me, Bella. I don't want you so far away thinking that I don't love you with all of my being. I miss you so much every second of every day. I'll be in classes (such as now) and my mind will wander to your kisses, your touch, the sound of your voice, your beautiful eyes, that night by the river… That night by the river keeps me awake many nights, Sweetheart, and sometimes, I wish I would've touched you. Sometimes I imagine that I did.

Jesus, I wish I was better with words. Maybe I should leave the rest of this letter for later and pay better attention in my English class…

...

October 31, 1940:

My dear Edward,

Mother and Papa Phil visited this weekend. They were on their way to Hyde Park, which is only about a half-hour car ride from here. Guess with whom Papa Phil was meeting?

With FDR himself!

Papa Phil apparently has business to discuss with him, something about the railroads. He asked if I wanted to come with them for the weekend, but I declined. Spending a couple of days with Mother while Papa Phil is in meetings isn't exactly something I crave, even if it would've meant possibly meeting the leader of our country. I would've liked to have asked him for his word that we'll NOT enter that war in Europe and that we won't send our boys there - as he's promised.

To answer your question from your most recent letter, no Edward, I haven't received another letter from Jacob. I assume he's busy. Perhaps, unlike you and me, he isn't obsessed with sharing his every thought as you and I are.

Edward, I know this is a subject that's difficult for us to discuss in a letter or by telephone, but Edward, I want to remind you that I love you with my entire being- only you, My Love- forever you. There's so much more I want to say: things of which I dream, memories that keep me warm, hopes that fill my heart. I pray that you can come to me in a few weeks. I pray that it's not too long before I feel your arms around me again, before I feel your mouth on mine…

...

November 6, 1940:

My beautiful Bella,

It's a good day.

FDR was re-elected last night, and perhaps now that he can move on from trying to remain "neutral" for the election, we can give the Brits some real support.

But much better than that, it's set, my love. God willing, in one month, I'll be on a train headed to New York and to you.

Bella, I'm vibrating in my seat as I write this…

OOOOOOOOOO

On Monday, December 1, 1940, Edward embarked on the Great Northern Railway's _Empire Builder_ with a second class ticket, which meant he slept in a four-Pullman car for four nights.

On the morning of Friday, December 5th, I dressed very carefully, pairing my deep red, velvet pleated skirt with a soft, white cashmere sweater and black pumps. My hair was parted in the middle with the front of each part twisted loosely and pinned in the back. I applied my red lipstick carefully because I'd noticed how Edward tended to stare at my lips longingly when I had on red lipstick. And then I blotted it with a little bit of baby powder, the way my roommate, Tanya, had taught me, so that the color wouldn't bleed while kissing.

##########

"Ooh, does that work, Nana?" Olivia asks.

Isabella clears her throat behind me.

"Just wondering!" Olivia cries defensively. "Jeez!"

"It does work," I grin at her, "and I'll show you how to do it later."

##########

Anyway, I attended all my classes that day and folded my hands neatly in front of me, paid meticulous attention, wrote down perfect notes - all while vibrating in my seat in the way I imagined Edward must've done so on the day he bought his train ticket.

Once classes were done at three, I put on a good show of wandering around the halls for about a half hour, and then claiming boredom, Tanya and I left school with the excuse that we'd be walking around town for a couple of hours. You see, on Fridays and weekends, we had a curfew of eight p.m., and what's more, Miss Tudor's School operated on the _"buddy system";_ we had to have a companion with us at all times and weren't supposed to leave New Paltz without prior approval.

Now, Tanya Larson was the daughter of East Coast steel magnate Samuel Larson, for whom that popular street in New York City's East Village is named, among other city institutions. She was a tall, attractive and wildly flirtatious strawberry-blond, and though we were nowhere near as close as Alice and I were, we got along well. Tanya's beau, Harry Worthington, living in Connecticut; therefore, Tanya and I had already traveled to Grand Central Terminal in New York City without permission a handful of times.

With Edward's train due to arrive at six p.m., we were cutting it very close.

It was exactly six p.m. when Tanya and I exited the New York Central Hudson Line from Poughkeepsie, which dropped us off right inside Grand Central. We made our way to the cavernous main concourse full of bustling crowds made up of both tourists and commuters alike. I ran to the black-and-white flip-panel board, eyes anxiously scanning the board while my forefinger followed the rows of simultaneously-flipping information which changed almost too quickly for my mind to register.

"Track 15," I breathed when I found Edward's train and then swiftly made my way back to Tanya, who was waiting for me under the four-faced brass clock by the main information booth, smiling at a group of businessmen walking by.

"His train arrived on Track 15," I said, ignoring the men who'd stopped to try to talk to us. "Let's go."

Tanya shook her head. "You go. I'm sure Edward doesn't want to greet his girl with a tag-along there to watch. I'll wait here for you and keep myself busy with all these nice-looking bankers." She grinned wickedly, fluttering her fingers at them.

Knowing what a flirt she was and more than eager to find Edward anyway, I gave her a grateful grin and hastily headed towards the terminal marked Track 15, taking the ramp down to where the _Empire Builder_ was just beginning to let off her passengers. Being on the petite side, I had to stand on my tiptoes to see past the throngs of travelers heading my way, yet Providence or Luck must have been smiling down on me.

All the way at the end of the track, I spotted a copper head of hair just stepping off of the train. Dressed in a brown, wool, three-piece suit, he held his suitcase in one hand and his hat in his other as his head turned from side to side, searching.

"Edward," I breathed while my heart raced in my chest. I tried to make my way to him, but the crowd closed in on me from all sides. Trying to squeeze between them, I called his name again, but my voice came out as nothing more than a squeaky gasp. I could barely even hear myself over the buzz of voices surrounding me.

"Edward!" I said louder and grinned in relief when I saw the light of recognition on his face. His eyes continued searching even more eagerly now, and I cursed my height yet again.

"Edward!"

His head whipped around, and a huge grin lit up his face right before he swiftly stalked over to me. But the congregation of people had grown thicker, like clusters of cattle meandering about with no direction. Edward was just a couple of feet away now, but we were separated by a mob of bodies about three people deep. Every time one of us would try to break through, another torso would get in between. I laughed excitedly. He rolled his eyes and expelled a loud groan of frustration.

And then unable to take it any longer, Edward shoved his shoulder into the men before him, and with eyes intent on me and jaw squared in single-minded determination, he pushed through with a stubborn resolve etched on his handsome face. My breath hitched with a momentary fear I hadn't even considered until this very second: what if getting to me wasn't half as thrilling as he seemed to expect it to be?

Bewildered by my abrupt moment of panic as well as by the ferocious intensity in his eyes, I actually backed up a few steps as his long legs pounded the concrete, and in short order, he dropped his suitcase and wrapped me in his arms.

And that was as long as my bewilderment lasted. Burying my face in his warm neck, inhaling the clean, musky scent of him that I'd been deprived of for months, I uttered his name in a soft, broken whisper.

"_Edward_."

Edward made a sound between a moan and a whisper when he breathed my name in my ear, cradling me in his arms.

"_Bella…Baby…"_

I pulled away and for the first time in months, gazed into his fiery, evergreen eyes, and before I knew it, our mouths were crashing together in warm, sloppy kisses that landed absolutely anywhere with absolutely no mark other than wherever our mouths could reach.

"Bella…oh, Baby I missed you. I missed you so damn much."

"Edward…Edward you're here. You're here with me."

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I made it. I made it to you."

We stood there for what felt like hours but was probably just about five minutes, kissing and whispering endearments, rejoining our hearts and learning to breathe again now that we were together once more. When we were ready, Edward picked up his suitcase, and swinging our hands between us, we made our way out of Terminal 15 and back to the Grand Concourse; full of so much conversation, we spoke over each other the entire way there.

We arrived back in New Paltz with about forty minutes to spare before Tanya and I were due back at Miss Tudor's. As she and I had done on previous occasions with Harry, once back in New Paltz, she went and busied herself on Main Street where I was to meet her at quarter to eight so that we could arrive at school together.

Quickly, I escorted Edward to the Lewiston Lake House where he'd be boarding for three nights, and once outside, we stopped and faced each other because this was as far as I could go with him.

"God, how is possible you've grown even more beautiful in four months," Edward smiled, taking my hands in his.

I shook my head. With all of our running around, my hair had come loose from its various twists and my clothing was wrinkled. Plus, I had mud on my coat from a puddle I'd accidentally splashed in my haste early this afternoon.

"I doubt that, but thank you anyway." I looked down sheepishly because at some point, I'd begun feeling shy around him again. Perhaps it was because we were standing outside a hotel. Perhaps it was because I wanted to stay with him in that hotel.

Edward lifted my eyes back to his. "Hey, I thought we already established that you're a beauty – inside and out."

I sighed. "You look…so handsome," I said wistfully, and then tracing one finger under his eye added, "but tired. I'm sorry you had to ride a train over here for four days just to stay for three nights."

"Don't." He shook his head firmly. "Even if I had to leave right now, it's already been worth it."

He pulled me into his arms then, and I melted against him, all sudden shyness gone.

"I wish I could stay with you," I said honestly.

"I wish you could stay too…" He pulled away. "But I don't want to get you in trouble. Go. We'll meet at that diner you told me about in the morning and spend the entire day together." He paused. "Tanya doesn't have to come with us, does she?"

I chuckled. "No. She and I will leave school together, but then she's going to meet some of her friends in the city while I'm with you, and we'll meet up again before we go to school."

He raised a brow. "It sounds as if you've done this before."

"Many times," I grinned.

"Really?" He smirked, shaking his head and sucking in his teeth in mock disapproval while his hands stroked my back tenderly. "She seems very…flirtatious. I hope you haven't been taking lessons."

"Only as they'll apply to you," I teased him back, planting a soft kiss on the lips I'd missed so much.

He snorted. "In that case…" Our lips met a few more times, and then Edward pulled back. "Go, Sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."

Reluctantly, I forced myself to walk away.

The next day we spent together in New York City. Edward took me to breakfast, and then we wandered around aimlessly around Times Square. I took him to the Empire State Building, and we spent a couple of hours up in the observatory, putting nickel after nickel into the large binoculars and exploring the city that way.

Afterwards, we ate a late lunch in one of the small restaurants inside Grand Central before heading back to New Paltz, where we kissed chastely and shared as much of each other as was possible on a crowded train.

"I miss the privacy of the woods," I told him honestly.

He grinned knowingly, stretching his arm out over the back of my seat and folding me into him. "I do too. I think about…the last time we were there. A lot."

"I do too…"

We gazed at one another, communicating with our eyes what we simply couldn't say on a commuter train.

"Though I really wish I could've taken you to see more of the city," I finally said.

Edward smirked. "I don't care about seeing the city. I didn't come to see the city; I came to see you. Besides, we took a chance as it was. Your parents or someone they know could've seen us."

I nodded slowly because it was true. "I wish we didn't have to hide."

He ran a hand down the length of my hair. "Hopefully someday soon…we won't have to hide. I'll be done with school, and you'll be in college, and nothing and no one will be able to keep us apart."

My heart pounded in my chest. "What about the service?"

It was always in the back of my mind.

Edward took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping his eyes on me. "We'll see how things play out, Bella. The Brits are getting hit hard, but they're giving it right back to Hitler. Now they're fighting Mussolini and the Italians in North Africa. They're not giving up so easily, and with FDR's reelection, he doesn't have to pretend to remain neutral for the voters anymore. I've read he's planning on introducing a bill soon to offer even more assistance to the Brits and to China as well – to help them fight the Japanese. We're doing better at home, Bella, and maybe, if we help these other countries, that war in Europe will be over sooner rather than later."

"Do you really think so, Edward?" I asked hopefully.

"Who knows?" he shrugged. "All I know, Bella, is that these past few months without you were enough to drive me crazy. I don't even know how I passed my classes." He cradled my cheek. "I know you've got to finish school, and I know you want to go to college."

"Yes, but though I'm not sure yet, I think...I might want to go into veterinary medicine," I confessed sheepishly.

"A doctor," he grinned proudly. "Like my Pop."

"It might take a while."

Edward nodded. "That's fine. I'll wait for you to finish whatever you want to do, and then…maybe…you can come with me wherever I go."

"I'll go with you anywhere," I breathed.

He smiled, tenderly stroking my cheek. "We still have time to figure things out, Bella. There are many things I'd like to discuss with you, mostly good, some things that weigh on me…but I'm only here for three days, and we won't get into any of that in seventy-two hours. I simply wanted to give you an idea of some of the things I've been thinking of. Being away from you…" – he cradled my jaw – "it's harder than I thought it would be, especially now that you're mine, that those lips are mine to kiss," – he kissed me softly – "that your beautiful face is mine to gaze at openly," – his eyes held mine – "and if waiting a bit longer means I could have you with me wherever I go, then I'll wait. I've already pushed it back for this college business." He grinned crookedly, rolling his eyes. "What are a couple more years?"

"You'd do that…for me?" I asked in awe. "Push it back even further?"

"I'd do _anything_ for you, Bella," he replied, his eyes dark yet so open and honest. "Don't you know that yet?"

And when he kissed me on that train while making our way back to New Paltz, I believed that anything was possible. I no longer worried too much about a war that was so far away, a war that would probably end before Edward and I were both done with college.

I believed it would all work out just fine.

##########

I snort quietly. "Little did I know…"

"Little did you know what, Nana?" Skye whispers, her voice as soft and gentle as the September breeze blowing through my hair.

"Little did I know on that late afternoon in December of 1940, how precious was the time we had left before our world literally exploded. What lay ahead not just for the copper-haired boy and me but for all of the other people riding the train that afternoon, happily and naively going on with their day, perhaps making plans as we were with no idea of what was already being planned _for_ us by an empire thousands of miles away.

And a little over twenty-four hours later, when I bid the copper-haired boy a tearful farewell from the New Paltz train station, little did I know how often so many lovers would repeat that scene in the years to come. Little did I know that soon I'd be longing for the days when only school rather than military bases separated the copper-haired boy and me. At that time, I had no idea that I would give anything to only be separated by a distance that could be covered on a train rather than a distance measured by endless oceans. I had no idea that I would relish the distance that was only covered by fields and mountains littered with grain and sun rather than sprawled out and defined by defense lines and blood."

My daughter and granddaughters are silent.

"We ended 1940 full of hope, making somewhat vague yet rose-colored plans for our future. Little did I know how much everything would change almost one year to the day."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 26:**

_**Fools Rush In**_** (1940) by Glenn Miller**

_**Fools rush in where angels fear to tread  
And so I come to you, my love, my heart above my head  
Though I see the danger there  
If there's a chance for me then I don't care**_

*****For those who are interested, here's a little bit of history on how 1940 ended:*****

**In the U.S., having won his reelection bid by a comfortable margin, on December 17, FDR presented an outline for his plan to send aid to the governments of Free France (the French Resistance), Great Britain and China, which would become known as the Lend-Lease Bill of 1941. In return for this aid, the U.S. was given leases on bases in Allied territories. On December 29, 1940, FDR, in one of his famous fireside chats to the nation, declared that the U.S. must become "the great arsenal of democracy" – in other words, it was the U.S.'s responsibility to arm those governments fighting for freedom. The Lend-Lease Bill gave the U.S. government a reason to build up its weapons industry – which had a three-fold effect: 1) it supplied the Allies in Europe, 2) it created more jobs here at home, and most importantly, 3) **_**if**_** the U.S. had to enter the war, they'd already have a substantial weapons industry. (wink, wink).**

**In Europe, the RAF continued to hold off an invasion by Germany. Nightly raids on British cities continued, but on December 29th, 1940, London suffered its most devastating air raid when the German Luftwaffe firebombed the city, engulfing entire areas of London in flames. Hundreds died, and much of London's culture was destroyed. The next day, a newspaper photo of St. Paul's Cathedral standing undamaged amid the smoke and flames seemed to symbolize the capital's unconquerable spirit during the Battle of Britain.**

**Sound familiar?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	26. Chapter 25 - Summer, 1941

**A/N: Thank you for your continued thoughts.**

**This chapter is a perfect example of how much longer my chapters grow from my original intent. According to my outline, this was supposed to be chapter 17. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 25 – Summer, 1941**

"1941…"

I stop the swing and stand up, slowly walking off as I let my eyes sweep over the vast fields of green grass and emerald-peaked mountains before me. It all looks the same, and if I try hard enough, I can almost believe that we're 73 years in the past.

"Mama, do you want to go rest now?"

I lift my eyes to the second floor bedroom windows. What lays beyond them is sealed off by cream-colored curtains and white blinds.

"I don't need to rest. Your father…."

"Mama…let me take you inside. Bastian and Charlie will be here soon."

"No," I shake my head. "No, I need to finish my story."

"But Mama-"

Isabella pats the tire held up by three lines of rope. "Nana, come back to the swing, if you're not too tired."

When I make my way back to the swing, Leah sighs.

"Nana's fine, Mom," Isabella assures her. "She wants to tell her story, and frankly, I think we all need to hear it."

"Please, Nana Bella," Olivia pleads, "tell us what happened next. Was 1941 a horrible year?"

Isabella slowly pushes the swing again, swaying me backwards and forwards. With a deep breath, I wrap my hands around the ropes and resume my story.

"It would depend on where in the world you were living. By 1941, the Axis Powers were waging war in Europe, Africa, the Middle East and Asia. British cities continued suffering from raids by the German Luftwaffe, while the RAF fought for its very survival. Thousands evacuated into the British countryside, including children who left behind their parents, friends and teachers. Meanwhile, reports were beginning to reach news outlets regarding inhumane treatment of Jews in Nazi-controlled areas, rumors of Jewish people being physically forced out of their homes and neighborhoods and thrown into crowded slums or even into labor camps.

In the U.S., however, 1941 ushered in more promise than our nation had seen in a while: the economy was slowly but surely improving, unemployment numbers were falling, the Midwest was once again rich in soil and grain, FDR had been reelected a couple of months earlier, and now…now we were in a position to help our allies in Europe as well as in China. In addition to passing the Lend-Lease Bill which sent war supplies to Great Britain and China, FDR also extended the Pan-American Security Zone, which-"

"It was the area within which the U.S. would protect American vessels, thereby limiting Axis control over the oceans," Skye finishes for me. At our looks of surprise, she adds, "What? I pay attention in school – sometimes."

I chuckle. "Anyway, what that German dictator didn't want to do – at least not at that time – was provoke the once-again strong U.S. into war. Therefore, he gave his submarines strict instructions not to sink American ships. What no one, including Hitler, knew at that time was that Japanese spies were already in Hawaii, studying the U.S. fleet stationed at Pearl Harbor."

"Nobody knew," Olivia whispers in amazement.

"No," I snort, "No one really knew, not those who'd started all the madness nor those planning and scheming in Hawaii. No one knew how all these games of power and control would eventually end, with loss so great…" – I draw in a deep breath – "loss so great it was immeasurable. It was the dawn of our innocence in so many ways…for an entire generation…"

"And so on a mid-June morning in 1941, I made my yearly trek through the valleys and plains of our beautiful, _safe_ and rich land into the majestic mountains of Washington State, full of excitement because I was going to see the copper-haired boy again after six, long months. And full of excitement for…the wedding.

"The wedding?" Skye echoes.

"Yes. You see, I'd received a letter in mid-April that had left me surprised and…confused…"

##########

_April 16, 1941:_

_Dear Bella,_

_As I write this letter, dogs surround me._

_Sandy circles me out here on the porch, digging her wet nose in between the pen and paper as if she has any idea whom I'm writing. I would swear she does, too. Meanwhile, Gus is sleeping at my feet. He has to be the laziest darn German Shephard I've ever met – but he's sweet and smart too. You have to see everything Jasper has taught him! Jasper buries his shirts in random places around the woods, and Gus finds them within a few minutes! He walks home to me from the mill in the mornings and waits here for Jasper to pick him up in the evenings. When Pop is on his way home, Gus can smell him from a mile away. Jasper says that if Gus were in London, he'd be able to help find people buried in the rubble. Yet Gus follows Sandy everywhere as if she's the master and he's the lowly peon even though at less than a year old, he's already much bigger than she. Bella, they could be a Vaudeville act all on their own. They're the best of friends, and I can't wait for you to see them playing together._

_I have big news, Bella. This summer, after I graduate, Jasper and I are getting married!_

_I didn't tell you this yesterday when we spoke on the telephone because I simply couldn't figure out how to say the words. You're my best friend in the whole world, and I wish you were here with me right now so that we could swing under the tree, and I could tell you all I'm feeling._

_The wedding will be the first Saturday in July. I want you to be my maid-of-honor. Edward will, of course, be Jasper's best man._

_I know that you and my brother write almost daily, and I don't want your hand to hurt, but write me back as soon as you can, okay? Let me know that you're happy for me, and that you'll be my maid-of-honor._

_I miss you so much._

_Your sister at heart,_

_Alice Cullen._

…

_April 16, 1941:_

_Dear Alice:_

_I just got off the telephone with you. Did you really think I wouldn't call after you wrote me such news? There are so many things I want to say to you. Edward once wrote me in one of his letters that there are things that can't be communicated by letter or telephone, things that can only be discussed in person while looking at one another's faces. I wish an object existed whereby I could see your face right now so that I could know what you were feeling._

_I'm happy for you, Alice. Of course I am. You and Jasper will have a beautiful life because you both love each other so much. I just didn't think it would happen this soon. But as I told you on the telephone, I'd be honored to be your maid-of-honor. You've been my best friend since I was nine years old and you declared me to be small, but old enough to play with you, Rose and your brothers. I'll be grateful for that decision for the rest of my life._

_Your sister at heart,_

_Isabella Dwyer_

…

OOOOOOOOOO

And so for the second summer in a row, I stepped off of the _Union Builder _at King Street Station looking forward to all of the magic that a wedding could bring. I breathed in the subtle hints of the fresh mountain air that awaited me while my mind filled with thoughts of Edward, with anticipation at seeing him again after six, long months.

Edward had just finished his first year of college. From his letters, I knew he'd done well. Oh he wasn't one to brag, but I'd asked and asked until he'd admitted to A's and a couple of B's. I was so proud of him. As for me, I'd done well too, and come September I'd be seventeen and starting my senior year. By next summer I'd be done with high school, turning eighteen in the early fall and starting college in Washington with Edward. After that, we'd never be separated again.

"Bella!"

The call of my name was followed by a bark I instantly recognized.

Edward's long legs swiftly led him towards me. Running next to him was Sandy. I had a handful of seconds to let my eyes take in the beauty before me before Edward grabbed my head in his hands and locked his mouth to mine, releasing a long sigh into my mouth full of undisguised relief.

Meanwhile, Sandy jumped on my legs, barking and whimpering.

The past six months without one another had been difficult, and neither one of us seemed to care that we were in the middle of a bustling terminal with scores of people gawking. Edward kissed me in a way he hadn't kissed me since last summer, not even when he'd come to see me in December. His tongue parted my lips and sought mine, stroking it urgently while his hands fisted my hair. I wrapped one arm around his neck while petting Sandy with the other.

When our mouths parted, Edward gave me a lopsided grin, gazing at me with all the fervor he'd just put into that kiss, all the yearning we'd both felt over the past few months.

"Sandy missed you too," he chuckled.

I bent down to pick up Sandy because she couldn't quite jump as high as she used to, and Edward wrapped us both in his arms.

"God, I can't believe you're in my arms again," he moaned, kissing the top of my head. "I don't know if I'll be able to let you go this time."

"Then don't let me go," I chuckled. "I won't complain."

Talking, laughing and kissing, we made our way through the terminal and outside. When a porter came to help with my luggage, Edward accepted the help – unlike last year – so that he could maintain his grip on my hand.

He'd finished school a couple of days ago, and now that he and Masen had a car, a Ford Cabriolet I believe it was, they'd driven back to Forks, and Edward had come back to get me.

"Why didn't you just wait here in Seattle instead of making the trip to Forks and back?" I asked as we walked towards the car.

He grinned impishly and gave me another kiss. "Well, for one, Masen wanted to get home to Rose as quickly as possible. For another…I wanted you all to myself when I picked you up, with no witnesses to how much I'll be kissing you between here and Forks."

"That was smart thinking," I said, nodding slowly.

"Well, I am a college man," he smirked.

"Miss Dwyer?"

When I looked towards the voice, Felix, Papa Phil's driver was walking towards us in his impeccable suit, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Afternoon, Miss Dwyer," he said, giving me a little bow.

"Felix," I smiled. "How have you been?"

"I've been good, Miss Dwyer. Certainly can't complain too much." He looked uncertainly between Edward and me. "Your parents sent me to pick you up."

"Oh. Well…"

"Felix, how are you?" Edward asked.

"Pretty good, Edward. Hey, tell your Pop thanks again for helping out with Molly's bad throat."

"She's feeling better?" Edward asked.

"Much," Felix grinned gratefully.

"Good," Edward nodded, "that's good. Say, you mind doing us a favor?"

Felix arched a brow. "Depends on what that would be."

"Let me take Bella home."

Felix was already shaking his head before Edward even finished. "I'm sorry, but Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer clearly asked me to pick up young Miss Dwyer here. I don't want to get into no trouble."

"You won't get into trouble at all," I assured him. "Papa Phil won't mind me going home with Edward."

But Felix just kept on shaking his head. "That may be true and all, Miss Dwyer, but…well, we all know your mama would mind."

"Come on, Felix," Edward persisted. "We do this right, Bella's mama won't be none the wiser."

"Like I said, I'm sorry. I don't want to get in between no young love, but I've got to do what I was told if I want to keep my job."

"Felix," Edward said in a conciliatory tone. "Let's take a walk." He wrapped an arm around Felix's stiff shoulder and led him a few feet away. While I waited, I knelt down in front of Sandy and scratched her ears, enjoying the way she purred like a content cat.

Both men finally walked back towards us.

"Miss Dwyer, I'll see you in three and a half hours then."

My brows shot up in surprise. I honestly hadn't thought he'd concede, but I gave him a grateful smile and nodded.

"Yes. Thanks so much, Felix. I'll see you then."

"What did you say to Felix to convince him?" I asked Edward five minutes later as we drove off with Sandy on my lap and the wind from the open windows licking our faces.

"I told him that I'd missed you like crazy while you were gone, and I reminded him that my mama helped deliver his daughter."

"Hmm, that was very kind of him," I mused.

"I also offered him five bucks."

I laughed loudly.

OOOOOOOOOO

We caught up all the way back towards Forks, discussing Alice and Jasper's wedding and the house that the boys were helping to finish up for Rose and Masen. Now that Alice and Jasper were getting married, they'd all agreed on finishing Masen's house first, and then the three would begin working on a house on Jasper's parents' property for him and Alice. In the meantime, once they married, Alice would move in with Jasper's parents.

"I still can't believe Jasper and Alice are getting married," I commented.

"Why not?" Edward said. "He loves her; she loves him."

"And it's that simple?"

"Sometimes," Edward said, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, "it is that simple, Sweetheart."

We discussed the London raids that seemed to have slowed over the previous month, around the same time that a German U-boat had fired upon and sunk the _SS Robin Moore, _an American merchant ship carrying commercial cargo from New York to South Africa. The U-boat captain had allowed the crew and passengers of the _Robin Moore_ to disembark and board four lifeboats before soundly torpedoing the ship.

"Those bastards. I'm sorry for my language, Sweetheart," Edward hissed in one breath. "I still can't believe Congress didn't declare war," he sneered disgustedly.

"Yes, but Edward, at least they allowed the passengers off before they torpedoed the ship."

"And what about next time, Bella?" he asked, clearly agitated. "What kind of message does that send to the Nazi's if after such a blatant disregard for our neutrality, we respond with nothing more than tough words and weak threats?"

"I don't really know, Edward, but what would declaring war have solved? No one was killed. Besides, Jacob has told me that protective convoys will now be used to-"

"You've heard from Jacob."

"Yes," I said. "He wrote me two weeks ago - right before I left Miss Tudor's."

Edward nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing. Then he released a heavy, protracted breath and smiled almost forcefully before reaching for my hand across the seat. Knitting our fingers together, he brought our joined hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

"It's our first day back together in six, long months. Let's not discuss the war in Europe…or Jacob."

"Okay," I agreed anxiously…and probably a bit cowardly.

Now Felix and Edward had come up with a plan so that Mother and Papa Phil would be none the wiser about the fact that I'd come home with Edward. A couple of miles from my house, Edward stopped the car and took a dirt road that led further into the thicket that now encroached us on all sides. We were to meet Felix on the main road there in about forty-five minutes, at which point we'd transfer the luggage into the limousine, and I'd ride home with him.

Edward turned off the car and grinned as he turned to me.

"Last year, when we were in exactly this situation, I could feel your body next to mine and smell the sweetness of your skin, and God, I wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you."

"Maybe you should've," I grinned.

"Would you have slapped me and pushed me away?" he teased.

"Maybe," I teased him back. "But now, you'll never know."

"Hmm," he hummed, watching me through hooded eyes. "Let's see what happens this year…"

His eyes shifted back and forth between my mouth and my eyes, and very slowly he leaned in…

And Sandy, who'd been sleeping in the back, jumped in between us and licked my face.

I burst out laughing. Edward shook his head and reached past me to open my door.

"Go, Sandy!" he ordered. "Go!"

Wagging her tail in Edward's face, Sandy obediently jumped out of the car.

I chuckled for a few more seconds while Edward gave me a look of mock exasperation.

"So tell me, Miss Dwyer, has your flirt of a roommate introduced you to any handsome, promising young men since I last saw you?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. "Why don't _you_ tell _me_ if you've met any older, more interesting college women since I saw you last?"

"No way," he smirked, brushing his hand over my cheek, and then much more seriously, he added, "No one could ever hold a candle to you, Bella." His eyes fell to my mouth once more, and placing one hand behind my head, he brought our mouths together without any further interruptions. We kissed slowly, with all the pent up passion months of separation will cause. When his hands circled my waist, I remembered what he'd promised last year, the words that had circled around in my head many a lonely night.

"_Next summer, I'll touch you wherever you want me to touch you…"_

I wondered if he remembered that promise. I wondered if he was thinking of it at that moment, as I was.

Edward pulled away and gazed deep into my eyes, softly tapping his lips to mine. "God, I missed you."

"I missed you too," I murmured while my heart raced in my chest. He pressed his mouth to my eyes and my nose, brushing each cheek and my chin before trailing his mouth to my ear. When he began nibbling on my earlobe, I thought my heart would burst right out of my chest. With the hand he had on my waist, he pulled my blouse, releasing it from inside my skirt and sliding his hand underneath the hem, splaying his very warm palm against the bare skin over my ribs. His thumb stroked small circles over my stomach, which contracted tightly at his touch.

"Bella…" he breathed in my ear, and I closed my eyes, trying to control the way my body was suddenly quivering. His mouth left a trail of feather-light kisses against my neck, and when they reached the bottom, I instinctively lifted my head to give him better access, sighing when his lips skimmed across my collarbone, softly sucking on the skin there. At the same time, his hand kept stroking the bare skin at my waist, leaving a scorching burn wherever he touched. I grabbed his shoulders, fisting his shirt while my head buzzed with dizziness…with longing…with overwhelming sensations…

"Your skin is so soft…"

Reaching behind me, I quickly opened the car door and stepped out into the fresh, mountain air, trying to regain my senses and remember how to breathe.

Edward stepped out of the driver's side and watched me while I breathed in and out heavily. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I panted, embarrassed.

Walking around the car, he made his way towards me with a look of determination on his face that simply made my heart rate spike even more. In the muted, afternoon sun, his evergreen eyes looked dark and predatory.

I took a step back.

Edward smirked. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to get away from me?"

I let out something that sounded somewhat like a mix between hysteria and a whimper. "I'm overwhelmed by my love for you, Edward! And being in that car with you…I was about to faint!"

Edward paused in his steps, and with a deep breath, dropped his head. When he brought his eyes back up to mine, there was a fire in them that made my breath hitch.

"You see, you say things like that, Bella…without even trying to hide how much you love me. Do you know how disarming that is? _You_ feel overwhelmed, Bella? Sometimes…sometimes I don't even think you're real."

"Then what am I if not real?" I questioned.

Edward resumed his slow quest towards me, his eyes full of the same single-minded determination as before. Quickly, I glanced behind me and circled around the wide tree in my way.

"I've already told you what you are. You're a woodland nymph who appears in the summer months to light up the forest. Better yet, you're a firefly dancing around like you belong here and nowhere else."

"Is this where I belong then, Edward," - my hands reached behind me, and I splayed them against the tree as I continued spiraling around it - "in the woods?"

Edward chuckled. When his hand quickly reached for me, I backed away.

He pursed his lips, making me giggle. Every time he made a grab for me, I'd manage to stay out of his reach. And so we rotated around the thick tree over and over, playing a game to which we both knew the ending.

"Because I don't feel as if I belong anywhere else," I murmured honestly. "Not in New York, or in Chicago, or in that big house a couple of miles from here."

He tried to grab for me again, but I backed away lightly once more, laughing though my heart raced.

"So maybe I will stay here with the rest of the woodland creatures for the rest of the summer," I teased. "Maybe they'll love me and keep me warm."

He stopped. "You want to be kept warm?"

Quick as a flash, he made a successful grab for me this time. I squealed in delight, pretending to fight him off as his arms encircled me. When I finally gave in, I wrapped my arms around his neck and lost myself in his deep, green eyes.

"You say I'm an anomaly."

Carefully, he lowered us both to the dewy, cool grass, him on the bottom, me on top. His hands slid under my blouse again so that he could cradle my body in his arms. And though what I wanted more than anything at that moment was for him to kiss me, his soft lips merely ghosted over mine. I sighed breathlessly when his sweet breath feathered over my face, warmer than the breeze in the air surrounding us.

"That's because you are," he murmured, brushing his lips over mine lightly back and forth.

My voice shook with emotion. "You say that I'm something that doesn't belong where it is, and you've promised, more than once I might add, that we'll figure out where I do belong."

Edward stopped grazing my lips and moved his hands to cradle my face, lifting it just enough to hold my gaze.

"You _are_ an anomaly," he nodded. "You don't belong in any of those places, but…I have figured it out, Bella. I've thought of almost nothing else all year, and I've finally come up with the one place where you'll always belong no matter what."

I pressed myself close to him, chest to chest so that we could share each other's heat and gazed into his beautiful, evergreen eyes, softly tasted his sweet lips, and ran my hands through his copper hair. "Tell me where I belong, Edward," I whispered.

"You belong here, Bella. In my arms…in my heart," he breathed before finally molding his mouth to mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

As usual, Mother and Papa Phil were waiting on the porch for my arrival, each with a drink in hand. We made the usual greetings and small talk while I slowly sipped on the wine I'd been offered. After all, I was almost seventeen.

"Isabella," Papa Phil said after a while, "I hope you don't mind, but your mother and I will be leaving tomorrow for a week. I have business in California, and your mother will be accompanying me."

To this day, I have no idea how I managed not to jump for joy.

"I don't mind at all," I said as serenely as possible.

"Actually, Isabella, I've decided that you'll be accompanying us," Mother said firmly. "There are sights I'd like to show you, and besides, it will be a perfect opportunity for us to spend time together while Phil is in his meetings: mother/daughter bonding time, if you will."

My chest constricted. I set down my wine glass over the side table, hoping she hadn't noticed the way the liquid sloshed messily over the rim.

"Mother, while I'd…" – I swallowed and smiled shakily – "love to spend time with you, I have to help Alice get ready for her wedding in a couple of weeks. Perhaps some other-"

"I've already made our plans, Isabella. You'll be coming with us."

"But Mother-" I pleaded, unable to disguise the panic in my voice.

"Renee, Isabella has committed to being Alice Cullen's maid-of-honor, and as such, I'm sure there are duties and responsibilities of which she must take care."

"Yes." My chest rose and fell heavily with my relief, and I gave Papa Phil a small, tentative smile. "Yes, I have duties and responsibilities, and Papa Phil has always declared that taking care of ones duties and responsibilities is of utmost importance."

"Oh I have indeed," Papa Phil agreed with a somewhat bemused grin.

Mother's nostrils flared. She glared at me before turning her eyes towards Papa Phil. "I won't leave her here without proper supervision."

He held her gaze steadily. "Since when has that been a problem? Isabella has always been an intelligent child, and Mrs. Cope has always watched over her with no issues."

"That was before-"

"Renee, Isabella is staying." His tone brooked no room for argument.

Mother's anger practically radiated off of her. Rising out of her chair, she stalked over to where I sat, towering above me furiously.

"We will be back in one week, Isabella. One. Week. And then you and I _will_ have a long, overdue talk. I don't care what _anyone_ has to say about it!"

And with that, she stormed into the house.

With a long, deep sigh, Papa Phil stood as well. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Isabella, your mother is correct about one thing, at least. We are overdue for a long talk, which we'll all be having - including Edward - upon our return."

I gave him a weak smile. "Yes, Sir. I'll let him know. Thank you," I added, "for…everything. And enjoy your trip."

"I don't know about that happening now," he chuckled, "but thank you for the thought."

OOOOOOOOOO

So it appeared that I'd been given a one-week stay-of-execution, so to speak.

As I made my way to the Cullen's that afternoon, I was filled with both dread and relief. I no longer wanted to hide my relationship with Edward, yet at the same time, I feared what Mother would attempt to try to keep Edward and me apart.

So many different thoughts filled my mind as I broke through the trees and brush that led me on to the Cullen's property that I was surprised to find not one but two dogs waiting sentry for me by the evergreen tree. Sandy ran straight to me while the black, German Shephard skipped swiftly at her side, tongue hanging out happily.

"You must be Gus," I grinned, patting his eager head. Gus was almost twice Sandy's size and built much more powerfully. His shoulder blades and legs were lean and toned, and his torso was a long body of muscle.

Sitting on the swing and waiting, Alice laughed, and when I was finally able to make my way to her despite the anxious tails smacking me and the paws jumping on my thighs, we hugged tightly.

"He certainly is very friendly!" I laughed.

"Yes, he is, but it usually takes him some time to warm up to new people. He's only like that with you because Edward and Jasper have been getting him ready for your arrival."

"Have they? How?"

"You left a sweater behind last summer. They've been having Gus sniff it almost constantly for the past couple of days. I wasn't sure it would work because your scent has faded, but he seems to have picked it up after all!"

The animal lover in me that had always been fascinated by that type of information adored hearing this.

"Good boy, Gus!" I said, stroking his chin. "Good boy!"

Alice and I sat side by side on the swing, squeezed in together tightly because we were no longer little girls. It was her job to swing us back, and it was my job to swing us forward.

"I can't believe you're getting married," I finally said.

"I know," she replied wistfully.

I gave her a sidelong glance, my eyes focused intently on her flat belly. "So tell me, are you growing a bun in there or what?"

She chuckled. "No, though that's what a bunch of folks think, I'm sure."

"Alice," I said, "I know you love him, and I know he loves you. I'm just surprised by how quickly you decided, that's all."

"What would've been the point in waiting, Bella?" she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the horizon. "I finished school last month. What am I going to do now? I'm not going to college the way Masen, Edward and even you are. I'm not having any big adventures in my life. I'm not traveling anywhere; I'm not having a big coming out party planned for me. For what would I have been waiting? I love Jasper with all my heart, and he loves me, and there's no reason to wait anymore."

I said nothing because I couldn't think of anything to say. I did know she loved him. I did. She was my best friend, and if anyone knew Alice's heart, it was I.

That's why I'd been so anxious to get to her for the past few months.

"I envy you, you know," she finally said.

I looked over at her, startled.

"I love you," she smiled apologetically, "but I envy you."

"_Why_?"

"Not the money, Bella," she clarified, "or the big house, or even the pretty clothes. I envy the freedom you have."

"Freedom?" I snorted. "You think I have freedom? Mother just delivered another thinly veiled threat to keep me away from Edward. I am _not_ free," I clarified for her. "You envy me? I envy _you_. I'd give anything to be able to love Edward openly."

She chuckled humorlessly. "Well then I suppose we both have things to envy one another."

We were both silent, swinging each other back and forth while Sandy and Gus played and roughhoused by our feet, chasing the swing as it glided to and fro.

"I just…you and Jasper…in my heart, you're my family, and I don't want either one of you to ever hurt."

She turned to me with a soft smile. "Bella, we won't hurt; I promise you that. We'll be _happy_," she grinned. "I can't imagine ever loving anyone the way I love him. We'll get married and have babies. And when you're ready, you and Edward will get married and have babies. And we'll all live around each other so that all our babies will grow up and play together: Masen and Rose's, mine and Jasper's, and yours and Edward's. I can see it already; it's going to be wonderful," she giggled.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm very sure," she chuckled. "Now come on, let's get inside. Mama has been waiting for you all day."

And arm in arm, Alice and I walked towards the house, excitedly planning our bright futures.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #27: **_**Green Eyes**_** by Jimmy Dorsey**

_**Well, Green Eyes with their soft lights,  
Your eyes that promise sweet nights,  
Bring to my soul a longing, a thirst for love divine.  
In dreams I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you,  
Our lips meet and our hearts, too, with a thrill so sublime**_**.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	27. Chapter 26: Summer '41 - The Five & Dime

**A/N: First, I want to apologize for the update fail last week. My daughter got sick, I was bombarded with work, and generally, Real Life just got hectic. I'm going to try to keep to the update schedule as much as possible, but we may need to deviate a bit here and there until things calm down. **

**Second, I'd like to thank everyone who emailed, pm'd and generally got in touch with me to make sure that my daughter was better and that everyone at the Patty household was okay. You guys are so sweet, and I appreciate all the well wishes. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The story is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 26 – Summer, 1941: The Five &amp; Dime **

In the summer of 1941, there was a wooden, rectangular-shaped sign erected in front of a vacant lot about a block down from the Stanley's Mercantile. That particular sign made Alice squeal with joy one afternoon, about a week and a half before her wedding.

It was a couple of days after Edward's 19th birthday, and we'd come into town for ice-cream. Afterwards, Alice, Rose, Masen, Jasper, Edward and I strolled down the street in the fading twilight, and as the sun set behind a row of new apartment buildings that hadn't been there just a couple of summers ago, a ray of light shone right over the sign.

Later, Alice would tell me that it had been a sign – figuratively as well as literally.

Apparently, Forks was opening up its very own five and dime.

Five and dimes were generally still a new concept - at least outside of large towns and cities. A store where customers selected and handled their own merchandise rather than having a store clerk pass them the merchandise from a stock room or order it for them from a catalog? Outrageous!

According to the sign, Forks Five &amp; Dime would be opening sometime in the fall.

"Do you know what this means?" Alice squealed.

"It means more jobs for Forks," Masen nodded.

"And competition for the Stanley's," Edward added.

"Yes, yes," Alice agreed, "but besides that, they'll need employees to get it going!"

"And how does that affect you, Alice Darling?" Jasper asked.

"I can be one of them," she answered bluntly.

What followed was a ten-minute debate between Alice and her soon-to-be husband on why a newly-married woman would need a job.

"I may not be as rich and fancy as Peter Vanderneck," Jasper laughed, "but I make enough at the mill to support the both of us just fine. 'Sides, what would folks think if I sent my pretty little wife off to work?"

"You wouldn't be sending me off to anything, and who the heck cares what everyone thinks?" she retorted, hands on hips. "I want something to do other than clean house and mend your socks all day."

"Now what's wrong with cleaning house and mending my socks?" Jasper asked.

"Why can't I mend your socks _and_ work at the five and dime?"

"It does sound like it would be fun," Rose agreed.

Masen groaned. "Great, Alice, now you've got my wife in on it!"

"Well it _does_ sound like fun," I concurred, "handling new merchandise, talking and helping all those people. I wonder if they'll have a lunch counter like the ones in New York?" I mused. "I wish I lived here year-round so that _I_ could get a job there too."

It was Jasper who, with a snort, said what I imagine the entire group was thinking.

"As if you need to work a day in your life with that big ole trust fund you'll be getting in a few years!" Then he laughed and pulled an unwilling Alice down the block.

And I stood there in the middle of the street while the rest of the group strolled on.

All except Edward. He moved in close to me, squeezing my hand tight while he waited for me to meet his gaze.

"Don't mind him, Sweetheart; Jasper's mouth moves quicker than does his brain. He didn't mean anything by it. He's more concerned with making sure Alice keeps her head out of the clouds."

I gazed up at him and drawing in a deep breath, smiled and nodded.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward slowly walked out of the living room, stopping at the porch railing and digging his hands deep into his pockets. He drew in a long breath that made his shoulders rise and fall. For a few seconds, I watched him through the screen door, captivated by the way his hair caught the moonlight, by the broadness of his shoulders, by the strong, lean build of his entire frame. He was so…beautiful.

Then I followed him out.

Coming up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his slender waist and rested my head on his firm back.

His hands tightened around mine as he stared up at the dark sky. "You think anyone's up there watching, Bella?"

"I do," I answered quietly.

Edward was silent. I could hear his profound breaths as he inhaled and exhaled. "Then why is it that madmen are being allowed to run rampant over there?"

I sighed, unable to provide a good answer. "I don't really know, and what I don't understand is why the Nazis invaded the Soviet Union after having signed that non-aggression pact."

Edward snorted. "Bella, Hitler is insane. That's what some people _still_ don't seem to get. You think a simple, non-aggression pact would hold him off? That…_animal_," he hissed, "doesn't hold to pacts, and he won't be satisfied until he invades the entire damn world!"

The vehemence in his words made me shiver.

Edward turned around in my arms. With his forefinger, he lifted my chin and brought up my eyes to his.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I just…" He sighed, and I wrapped my arms around his waist again, this time resting my head on his chest so that I could listen to his quickly beating heart.

"Don't apologize. We share all our thoughts, remember? The good and the bad."

"I remember," he breathed.

We took a moonlit walk to the magnificent evergreen. When we stopped, Edward backed me against it, caging me between his arms before pressing his mouth to mine. I held on to his waist, fisting his shirt as I reveled in the taste of his lips, in the warmth of his breath against my mouth and neck, and in the way his mouth both calmed and agitated me all the more. When he finally pulled away, the way his chest heaved made me think that perhaps my kisses did the same for him.

Yet as I gazed into his evergreen eyes, a sliver of apprehension ran up my spine.

"Mother and Papa Phil will be back in three days."

Sighing, Edward rested his forehead on mine, his hands rubbing up and down my arms soothingly.

"I know, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that."

"I know there are so many worse things going on in the world right now, and it's selfish of me to worry about such things, but Edward…aren't you at all concerned about what will happen when she returns?"

"First of all," he said, stroking my cheek with the tips of his fingers, "you're _not_ selfish, Bella, and we're not going to let that bastard in Germany control our lives over here. Look at those Brits in London getting bombed almost daily, yet they're still going on with their daily lives. Second, I'm not scared of your mother, Bella, and I'll tell you why: _Nothing_ in this world will ever keep me away from you."

"You don't know that," I murmured.

"Yes, I do," he said, his voice full of conviction. "You think after going almost two whole years without you, after thinking I'd lost you to some other fellow, I'm going to let anything else come between us?"

"But, Edward, you don't know Mother. She can be very…outspoken."

"What's she going to say that I don't already know?" he snorted. "That I don't deserve you? That you can do better than me?"

"None of which is true!" I growled.

But Edward simply chuckled and pulled me into him. "Bella…it may be selfish of _me_, but I don't really give a damn. All it comes down to is that if someone up there…" – as he'd just done on the porch, he looked up at the darkened sky, littered with thousands upon thousands of miniscule, glowing lights – "if someone up there put you in my path, then He better be meaning to let me keep you. His sense of humor can't be that twisted."

"I'm not so sure it works quite that way," I smiled. "The heavens may not follow your logic."

"Well, logical or not, whether you want to call it selfishness or fate, what it comes down to is that I won't let your mother or anyone keep us apart. Last summer, you agreed to trust me in keeping your heart safe, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Well then," he smiled gently, "what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you down?"

Despite my continued apprehension, I smiled at how absolutely confident and determined he sounded, and curling a hand around the nape of his neck, I guided his mouth back down to mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

Lying in bed that night, I thought of Edward and the things I needed to speak to him about that I still hadn't worked up the nerve to say. Time alone with him was so precious now. Since our return to Forks, Edward was working at the mill for the summer and on Masen and Rose's house almost every other spare moment.

I was grateful that Mother and Papa Phil hadn't been around for the past few days since it had allowed me to spend almost every waking moment at the Cullen's. My lessons had gone largely ignored, and though I knew Mother would hear about it upon her return, I couldn't be bothered to care. Felix hadn't complained about my asking him to pick me up later than usual either – though Edward and I had been warned not to ask him to allow Edward to drive me home. Apparently, Papa Phil had left strict instructions that I was to be driven home by Felix every evening.

Sighing, I turned over on my side.

In truth, I was extremely frustrated. I'd dreamed of our time by the river all year, and now I'd added to those dreams the feel of Edward's hand against my bare skin, on my ribs, his thumbs stroking my stomach…

With another sigh, I sat up and pulled my silk robe over my nightgown, tying it haphazardly. With Sandy in tow, I descended the staircase quietly so as not to disturb Mrs. Cope or any of the servants.

In the kitchen, I served myself a tall glass of water and took the glass and Sandy's bowl out on the porch for some fresh, nighttime air.

There was a nip in the evening breeze, so as I sat on the porch swing, I wrapped myself in the heavy, wool throws kept on the outdoor furniture. Sandy's sixth sense must've let her know that Mother was hundreds of miles away, therefore she jumped up next to me on the forbidden porch swing, circling around a few times before finally settling herself into a comfortable position over my feet, sighing in contentment.

Once we were both snug, I allowed my mind to flit around like a butterfly, fluttering from thought to thought. I thought of all the wars going on right now, not merely the war in Europe. There was Alice's war with Jasper, fighting to be more than what the world had limited her to being. There were the news reports informing us of the German invasion of the Soviet Union despite a pact that had been in place between both nations. And then there was Mother, waging her own war with the small town of Forks, against me, against Edward, even against Papa Phil at times.

Inhaling a long breath of air, I tried to quell the feeling of claustrophobia that had begun taking hold of me in the past few days. How was it that, though I was surrounded by rich, green woods on all sides, I still felt as if the world were slowly closing in on me…on all of us?

Lost in my internal musings, I failed to spot the movement up ahead until Sandy's ears pricked up. She lifted her head and growled low in her throat, and when I followed her gaze, my heart stopped. I couldn't even react when she ran down the porch and straight towards the moving object.

"Sandy!" I hissed. "Sandy, come back here!"

By the time I finally made to follow her, the figure up ahead had neared and taken form: tall and lean, with a head of hair brightened by the light of the moon. Sandy turned and walked back towards me with the man at her side, wagging her tail while I stood at the top of the porch steps, staring at them.

He strode towards me calmly, and nearer now, the moon gave his copper hair an ethereal glow. Though he stopped on the middle step while I waited at the top, he still towered over me as he removed his cap and gave me a beautifully crooked grin.

I crossed my arms and lifted a brow.

Edward chuckled, and though it was hard to tell, I thought I saw a bit of color touch his cheeks. "Sometimes…when I can't sleep, I take a walk."

"Across the river?"

He shrugged. "I like knowing that even if you're not with me, you're just behind those walls," he jerked his chin towards the house, "instead of a dozen states away."

"So you come here and watch the house?"

"You make it sound so disturbing," he smirked.

For one, long moment, we stood there, gazing at one another.

"Why couldn't _you_ sleep?" he asked.

"How'd you know I couldn't sleep?"

He raised both brows, and taking my hand, led us back to the porch swing where we sat side by side. Seeing that her seat had been stolen, Sandy now satisfied herself with lying over the teak floor and once again covered her eyes with her long ears, resuming her nap.

Edward wrapped an arm around me, and with blankets all about me, I cuddled into his side.

"I was thinking of Alice," I whispered so as not to wake anyone inside the house.

"What about her?" he asked lowly.

"She really wants a job at the five and dime."

Edward made a deep noise in his throat. "Well, she's not giving up the idea easily, that's for sure."

I brought my eyes up to his. "Why should she?"

"She's getting married," he said by way of answer.

"Edward, why aren't you opposed to my going to college and becoming a veterinarian?"

"Bella, you're different. You've always been different." He pulled me in closer. "You're my anomaly, remember?"

"That makes no sense, Edward."

He sighed deeply, his chest rising and falling. "You've always been meant for more, Bella. You may not see it yet, but everyone around you sees it. You're not meant to be bound, so I'll never try to bind you."

"I don't think Alice wants to be bound either."

"Alice doesn't have the…opportunities you have, Bella, and the sooner she accepts that, the better."

"It's just a job, Edward."

"She's getting married," he repeated.

"Why does one have to exclude the other? Why can't Alice want something beyond marriage and babies?"

"I'm not saying she can't," he countered patiently, "but I'm not the one marrying her, Bella - thank God," he snorted. "Maybe she just shouldn't have sprung this on Jasper less than two weeks before their wedding."

I bit my lip. As much as I loved Edward, I had a loyalty to Alice as well. Besides, how would I explain to him that though I knew she loved Jasper, I knew she craved something more the way a drowning person craves dry air?

##########

"Nana, I don't understand what the problem was," Skye says. "So she wanted to work. What was the big deal?"

"Before the war, a woman working was a very big deal. The fact that the copper-haired boy had accepted my own desire to be a veterinarian so easily was very forward thinking of him. But I suppose because his own mother was a healer of sorts, and I suppose because despite everything, he did see me differently from how he saw other women, he was able to accept it more readily. Besides, it was more than just that with Alice. I knew it, even then. I just…" – I sigh – "I didn't know how to explain it to him. Maybe if I had tried…maybe if-"

Just then, Skye's cellular phone vibrates, and she quickly pulls it out of her back pocket.

"Nana, just hold on thirty seconds while I tell him to call me back later!"

Olivia groans. "Hurry up, and get off the phone! I want to hear the rest!"

I chuckle, yet while I wait, my mind wanders back to that evening so long ago…

##########

_After a while, the wind began to pick up, scattering dry leaves over the porch and steps and blowing them into the unknown abyss of darkness beyond the house. Next to me, a shiver ran through Edward, so I unwrapped myself from one end of the blanket and placed it around his shoulder. He pulled it over and held that end while I held the other end around us._

_And just like that…everything changed._

_Under the blankets, the heat of his skin seeped through the thin layers of my robe and nightgown, burning me even though the temperature outside had definitely dropped significantly. And although we were out in the open, on a porch where anyone could see us, with the blankets cocooning us from the increasing breeze, everything suddenly felt so…intimate. With his free hand, he pulled me in closer to his side while I wound my arm around his waist, and in a moment of braveness, I did as he'd done to me in the car a few days ago: I pulled his shirt out of his trousers and laid my palm flat against the planes of his skin._

_Edward hissed in a sharp breath, his stomach contracting at my touch. His skin was absolutely on fire, searing the tips of my fingers and making them tingle. I reveled in the feel of my hand against his strong, firm stomach. It felt so different from my own skin, smooth yet hard at the same time. Underneath my palm, his muscles tightened as he inhaled, and released as he exhaled long, deep breaths._

"_Bella…Bella, maybe you should go back inside."_

_My feelings may have actually been injured by his abrupt dismissal had there been an ounce of conviction behind his words._

_Instead, I simply shook my head from side to side, holding his gaze._

"_You're shaking," he pointed out, his own voice quivering._

"_It's not because I'm cold."_

_Huddled underneath the blanket, Edward reached up and stroked my cheek.__"It's getting late, Sweetheart."_

"_I'll go back inside…" – I swallowed – "…if you come with me..."_

_In the light of the full moon, I watched as Edward's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his eyes darkening. Yet his strong jaw tensed with indecision, and had I been as benevolent as he believed me to be, I may have felt guilty about his obvious mental torment._

_Instead, while he silently stared at me, clearly debating with himself, my heart raced with anticipation. _

"_Please, Edward?" _

_The words came out in a soft, husky whisper. I wasn't even sure where I'd gotten that voice – except…except perhaps I was much more like Mother than everyone believed me to be. _

_Edward stood up wordlessly, untangling himself from the blankets. My lungs constricted._

_Until he held his hand out to me and whispered, "Let's go." _

_My heart thumped so loudly I was sure Edward could hear it, and when I met his hand with my own, it shook almost embarrassingly. He smirked as helped me stand, as if he knew that for all my begging and pleading, I was now about to hyperventilate. Leaving the blankets on the swing, we made our way inside, hand in hand._

_I led the way through darkness and silence so heavy that every step we took, every clicking of Sandy's nails over the wood floors, and every creak of the stairs seemed to be magnified a thousand-fold. Edward followed with his hands on my waist as I guided him up the winding staircase and then down the east wing hall where we passed Mother and Papa Phil's empty bedroom. Being intimately familiar with the house, I could find my way blindfolded, which meant I no longer paid any mind to the objects hanging on walls or the trinkets lurking in corners. I'd forgotten about the white, marble post at the end of the hall with the bust of our first president, George Washington, resting majestically over it. I passed it every time before making the right towards my bedroom. _

_When Edward's foot kicked the post, it tilted from side to side while we stood frozen, watching the bust of our first, great leader wobble and sway and then fall over the edge._

_Edward caught it right before it hit the floor._

_Our eyes met as he placed it back on the post. With both our chests heaving, I could almost read his mind: taking George Washington's almost-shattered bust as a sign, so to speak, the way Alice took the sun's rays bouncing off of the five and dime sign as a sign. _

_So before he could do anything, I took his hand and guided him the few short steps remaining. I opened the door inch by creaking inch, and once he, Sandy and I were inside, I closed it just as slowly. _

_And then I started laughing – quite hysterically._

_My pulse raced. I looked at Edward, who was standing wide-eyed in the middle of my bedroom, and covered my mouth. Nerves mixed with shock mixed with euphoria mixed with so many other emotions, made it impossible for me to stop my fit of hysteria. _

"_Shh, shh!" Edward instructed anxiously. He took a step towards me, quickly putting a finger up to his lips to show me what he meant in case I'd failed to understand. _

_Yet I kept right on laughing. _

"_Bella, if I get caught in here…" he hissed, but at the same time, there was a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. _

_And I simply couldn't control myself, so Edward pulled my hands away from my mouth and pressed his own mouth to mine, sliding his tongue inside. _

_All giggles immediately ceased. _

_I wrapped my arms around his neck while he walked us backwards, and when I heard the back of his legs thump against the side of my bed, I simply continued kissing him. But then he reached back and unwound my arms from his neck and sat down, fitting me into the space between his legs as he kept his eyes on mine. We gazed at each other in the semi-dark room with only a small, lit lamp and the slivers of moonlight peeking in through the closed curtains illuminating us. Edward reached out and took my hand, his eyes trailing up and down my robe and nightgown._

"_It's…a very pretty nightgown," he breathed._

"_Thank you," I replied, and as he lay back and pulled me with him, my heart hammered almost painfully. _

_I settled myself over his chest and lowered my mouth back to his, sliding my hands through his soft, silky hair. Edward groaned and wrapped his arms around my back, stroking back and forth while our mouths and tongues moved together. He flipped us over suddenly, so that now I was on the bed, and he was on top, holding himself up on his forearms._

"_You have a very nice room."_

"_Thank you again." _

"_So polite all the time," he laughed, stroking my hair, which was splayed out all over the pillow. "Is your room at school anything like this?"_

"_Not really. Tanya's a bit of a slob," I chuckled quietly. _

_He kissed my nose. "This room is very neat."_

_I played with the wisps of copper hair that had fallen over his forehead. "I like things in order."_

"_I've noticed. I'm a bit of a slob."_

"_You're not," I snorted. "I've seen your room."_

"_Tsk, tsk," he teased, shaking his head. "A young lady should never admit to such things."_

_I chuckled. "While you were at work, and Alice was with Jasper. I got bored…and curious."_

"_What did you find?" he grinned._

"_Nothing too scandalous. I didn't look through your drawers or anything. Your journal was on your dresser – but I didn't peek," I assured him._

"_You can, you know," he said, his grin growing wider. "There's nothing in there I haven't more or less admitted to."_

"_I'd never invade your private thoughts that way."_

"_Well then," he sighed. "I suppose fair's fair."_

_For the next hour or so, we talked about anything and everything, from the smallest, unimportant topic, to the war and school. _

_In between, we'd kiss softly yet chastely._

_I knew what he was doing, and as the minutes wore on, I was afraid he'd succeed. My frustration growing, the next time he kissed me, I reached down and wrapped my arms around his waist and tried to pull him over me._

"_Bella…" he groaned._

"_Please." I used that voice again: that husky, seductive voice that had come out of nowhere. "I just want to feel you over me."_

"_You don't understand," he moaned, avoiding my eyes. "Once we start, I don't know if I can...stop."_

_I cradled his face and brought his gaze back to me. "I do understand," I assured him. "I know how it works. I just want to feel your warmth. I'm not asking for more than that."_

_Holding my eyes, Edward slowly moved his body over mine, and I held my breath. When I finally felt the glorious weight of him, I expelled a long gust of air through narrowed lips, watching as Edward's eyes grew hooded and dark in the muted moonlight. Reminding myself that this was Edward and that he loved me as much as I loved him, I took one of his hands and brought it up to my mouth, kissing the tip of each finger. _

"_You made me a promise last summer," I whispered._

"_I made you a few promises," he murmured._

"_You know which one I mean."_

_Swallowing, Edward lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me tenderly while his hand slipped under the hand I had resting on his waist, and I waited for him to tell me not now, that I was still too young. _

"_Take my hand," he whispered against my lips, "and put it where you want it."_

_My heart stopped with one, hard thump._

_When it started up again, it did so with a vengeance. I expelled a long, ragged breath._

_Edward pulled back and met my eyes. "Unless...you didn't really mean it."_

"_I meant it," I breathed quickly._

"_Alright then. I'll only touch you where you guide me. I'll only caress you where you ask me."_

_I nodded, suddenly filled with an almost dizzying sense of power. Knitting my fingers through Edward's hand, I rested my palm over his knuckles and slowly, I removed our joined hands from his waist and moved them to mine, ghosting them lightly over the thin material of my robe and nightgown. While our tongues slowly stroked one another, Edward spread his hand over my side, caressing my skin through the gown._

"_Edward…I want to feel your hand __**on**__ me," I tried to clarify._

"_Then guide my hand, Bella."_

_My chest heaving, I slowly trailed Edward's hand lower, below my thigh, his fingers searing my skin even through my nightgown._

"_I can't reach any lower…"_

_Once more, I thought he'd take it as a sign to stop, but instead, finger by finger, Edward untangled his hand from mine and let it trail lower, breaking our kiss so that he could reach the hem of my nightgown._

"_Are you sure?" he asked with a slight tremor in his voice._

"_Yes," I said breathily. "Yes."_

_His hand slipped under the hem of my gown._

_Palm pressed tightly against my leg, Edward slowly made his way back up, bunching up the material of my gown as he reached my thigh. My breath hitched when he skimmed my underwear, yet he didn't pause there for a second, and I only had a fractional moment to ponder whether I was grateful or disappointed. Soon, he was at my waist, where he did stop. Kissing me softly, his fingers gently stroked and caressed me from waist to thigh, back and forth while I squirmed under him, the fire burning throughout my body sharply juxtaposed with the heaven I was sure I was in. _

"_Stay still, Sweetheart," he said breathlessly. "Try not to move too much, please."_

"_O-okay," I whispered. I felt as light as a feather, as beautiful as Ava Gardner or Jean Harlow, as free as an eagle soaring through the mountains._

_And as I ran my free hand through his hair, his mouth skimmed the skin on my collarbone and his other hand curved around the nape of my neck._

"_So soft, Bella..." he murmured, ghosting his mouth across my face and to my ear, holding me close to him. "You're so soft. Now," – he swallowed – "show me what else."_

_I released a long, shaky breath._

_Once more resting my hand over his, where he was now drawing small, round circles over my thigh, I slowly brought our joined hands up higher to my ribcage, and once again, I feared that this was where he'd stop._

_When I guided his hand higher, Edward complied._

_The edge of his thumb skimmed the underside of my small breast, and we both froze._

_Recovering, Edward pulled back, lifting the top half of his body off of me so that his eyes could bore deep into mine. _

"_Are you sure, Bella?" he asked again. _

_Strangely enough, it was his hesitation that emboldened me. _

_Keeping my eyes on his, I reached to the front of my robe and untied the small string at the bodice, letting the robe fall open in front. Then without breaking our gaze, I undid the small, pearl buttons of the top of my gown, one by one._

"_I'm sure."_

_His jaw squared tightly, nostrils flared, and when Edward's eyes finally left mine and dropped below my neckline, he expelled a long, husky breath. I reached for both of his hands this time, weaving my fingers through his knuckles and kissing them once more before I rested them on my chest. _

_"Touch me."_

_I let go of his hands and lifted mine to his shoulders while Edward parted the top of my gown, and when his hands finally closed around my breasts, we both let out long, shaky sighs. _

"_God," he breathed, almost choking on the one word as he watched his hands mold around me. "God, they're so soft. So unbelievably soft." _

_He squeezed and molded, thumbs stroking circles over the top swells._

"_Do you like them?"_

_He lifted his eyes to mine, gazing at me for two seconds as if he hadn't understood my words. _

_Then he dropped over me and crashed his mouth to mine. _

_There was an urgency to the way his tongue stroked mine that I'd never known before. His hands continued fondling my breasts, and I arched my back and pressed myself deeper into them. _

"_Edward…Edward…" I breathed, squirming again. Something stiff and hard pressed against my stomach, and Edward angled himself lower, pressing it against me. When he groaned, it was as if instinct took over. I arched myself further up, trying to guide the hardness lower still, to the place that was suddenly pounding as with a heartbeat of its own. _

_Then I lifted my hips. _

"_Ohh," Edward moaned. "Oh, Bella."_

_We moved against one another, heavy breaths and quiet groans filling the air while Edward palmed my breasts and pressed himself against me rhythmically._

_It was a thousand times better than the night by river, and that heat I'd felt that night, that strange and overwhelming sensation that had begun to consume me by the river now began to coil itself around my stomach again, and I felt as if I were reaching out with my entire body for...something._

_Yet before I could reach whatever it was, Edward's hands fell away, and knowing him as I did, I knew this was as far as we'd go. Even half-crazed in a haze of new and exciting sensations, there was an honor to Edward - a line he wouldn't cross…not yet._

_And so in the next second, the bottom half of his body was once again off of me while he supported himself on his forearms._

_I panted heavily as he kissed me and panted along with me. His brows furrowed. "Are you okay?" _

"_Of course," I said breathlessly._

_"You're flushed."_

_"So are you."_

"_You don't regret it, do you?"_

_I cradled his jaw. "Edward, that was…beautiful." _

_He searched my eyes, and I held his gaze firmly._

"_Beautiful," he echoed. With a deep sigh of relief, he dropped next to me on the bed and pulled me against him so that my head rested on his chest, and very carefully, he reached over and covered me, pulling first one side and then the other of my robe, bringing it together around me._

_"Something was happening inside me," I confessed._

_"I know," he responded quietly. "__Bella…I don't want you to think that I came over here for-"_

_I looked up and covered his mouth quickly with a finger. "Shh. Don't even finish that."_

_He kissed my finger, much as I'd kissed his fingers a short while ago, and held my gaze._

"_I love you with all my heart, Isabella Marie Dwyer. Forever."_

"_I know you do. And I love you too. Forever."_

_He smiled._

_I smiled. "So…did you like them?"_

_His eyes widened, and then he pressed his lips tightly together, his mouth twitching._

"_My beautiful girl, couldn't you tell how much I loved them? I mean...my God."_

_We both broke into quiet fits of laughter._

"_You did seem pretty overwhelmed," I allowed. _

_I thought of the stiffness I'd felt between his legs. Alice had told me that they tended to grow thick when you kissed, stiffen when you touched, and hard as a rock when they were directly touched. I wondered if they all worked that way. I wondered what touching Edward's would feel like. I wondered what exactly that tightening, coiling sensation had been, but in that moment, I was too shy to ask. _

"_They were…perfect," he sighed. "Just like you."_

"_I'm glad." I smiled and cuddled into his chest once more. "Edward…can we do that again?"_

_He didn't answer right away. "Yes. If you want to - but not tonight. I don't know how I found the strength to stop."_

_"Okay, but...will you stay with me tonight? You can leave early, before the servants wake."_

_He kissed the top of my head. "If you're sure you want me to."_

"_I am. I want to dream with you next to me."_

_Another sigh. "Then go to sleep, Sweet Bella, and we'll share all our dreams."_

_##########_

Skye hangs up her cellular phone. "Okay, Nana, I'm done! Please continue."

"Boy, Nana," Isabella chuckles, "That's the quickest she's ever gotten off the phone! You should be proud of your story-telling skills!"

I chuckle and clear my mind of my private memories – for now.

"Okay then, where were we?"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**This was supposed to be two chapters, but I figured since I'd skipped last week and Monday, I'd just post the whole thing. :)**

**AOI Playlist Song # 28: Why Don't We Do This More Often? by Freddy Martin &amp; His Orchestra**

_**Why don't we do this more often?**_

_**Just what we're doing tonight…**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend, Guys!**


	28. Chapter 27 - All is Fair

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your thoughts. Real Life is still hectic, therefore I apologize for not getting back to any of your reviews, but please know how much I enjoy reading them. And thanks so much for the well-wishes for my daughter. She's doing much better, so thank you. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

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**Chapter 27 – Summer, 1941: All is Fair**

"Now where were we?"

"Late June of 1941," Skye reminds me. "It was a late evening, and you and the copper-haired young man were outside on the porch of your house."

"Oh yes," I smile, "that's where we were. Well, after a while, the copper-haired young man went home and…let's see, what else happened in late June? Oh yes. The Ukraine fell to Germany, and as the Nazi war machine ran through that country, Russian civilians were executed on the spot or condemned to slave labor. The U.S. government, doubting that the Soviet Union would be able to hold off the Nazi invaders for long, pledged its support to the USSR's plight through the supply of weapons and ammunition."

"I thought the U.S. and the Soviet Union hated one another back then," Olivia says.

"FDR was a sworn enemy of communism, yes, but in this case, it was crucial for the West that the USSR be kept in the war."

"Why?" Skye questions.

"So that they could absorb the main blows from the Nazi war machine," Leah responds, "to distract them from the rest of the allies."

The girls are quiet.

"That doesn't sound very fair," Skye eventually notes.

"It probably wasn't," I agree, "but there's an old saying: all's fair in love…and in war."

##########

At the same time, back in Washington, with only a couple of days left until Mother's return from California, I continued taking full advantage of _her_ diverted attention and spent all my time with Edward and the rest of the Cullens.

That afternoon, for example, Alice, Rose and I were in full wedding prep mode. We'd taken Masen and Edward's car into town to pick up some last-minute wedding supplies, and then we were going to wait for the boys to get off of work so that we could all drive back together.

In the meantime, we were at the Stanley's Mercantile, picking out fabric for some table doilies we were going to make for the tables to be set out in the back yard.

"I think this pattern would be perfect," I said, holding up a pattern of butterflies fluttering airily over tulips.

"Oh yes," Alice smiled. "I do like that one!"

"Let's see if there is enough," Rose suggested.

While Mr. Stanley helped us search through the pile, Jessica strolled in, wearing a yellow, wrap dress that fit her snugly all the way down to her knees and intentionally accentuated her significant curves. Under the dress, the silhouette of the pointed-cup brassiere she wore made her generous breasts look like a pair of missiles ready for action. The wrap dress itself seemed to be having a hard time remaining wrapped.

She stood next to her father, leaning behind the glass counter so that her bust looked like it was part of the counter display.

"Daddy, I'll help them. Why don't you go finish taking inventory in the back?"

"I thought that's what Mike was doing?" Mr. Stanley groaned.

"You know he gets confused."

Mr. Stanley sighed and dragged himself to the back.

While we continued our search, Jessica picked up a different pattern from the one we'd already decided on, and held it up to Alice. "How about this one? It's got all these pretty flowers and stems with the sun up in the sky and a house with a fence."

Alice tilted her head and studied it, narrowing her eyes. "Mm, no, I don't really like it. It's got too much going on."

"But that's what makes it so pretty," Jessica insisted, "instead of that boring, plain one Bella picked."

I rolled my eyes, keeping my gaze on the patterns.

"The one Bella picked is _not_ boring. You've simply always liked too much frill," Alice said.

"Rose, what do you think," Jessica asked, holding up the pattern for Rose's inspection, "the one I picked or the one Bella picked?"

"I honestly agree with Alice."

"She's only agreeing with you because you're the bride," Jessica scowled.

Ignoring her, I opened my purse. "Alright, I think this should be enough fabric. Please tell us how much we owe you."

"I suppose _that's_ why Alice made you maid-of-honor," Jessica chuckled, "so that you could pay for everything."

"Why you little-" Alice attempted to round the counter, but I managed to pull her back before she could do any damage other than rattle the glass panes.

Then I glared at Jessica. She smirked at me, of course, crossing her arms against her chest, which lifted her bust higher, making it seem as if she were taking aim.

"I'm paying for these because I _want_ to pay for them, and Alice made me maid-of-honor because we've been best friends since we were little girls."

"Since you _were_ little girls?" Jessica laughed tauntingly. Her eyes quickly flashed to my chest. If I recall correctly, I was wearing a round-collared, short-sleeved lavender dress that day, with white buttons all the way down to the skirt that matched with the white belt, white gloves, white pumps and my white and lavender cap. Though the dress was fitted through the waist, the skirt itself flowed to my knees. It was a very pretty dress, and having a beau to impress now, I'd made sure the fit was quite complimentary to my figure. But I suppose compared to Jessica's more pronounced curves, I fell somewhat…flat.

"Isabella, have you seen yourself?" she questioned, raising both brows. "You're still a _little_ girl!"

She cackled wildly, and this time, it was Rose who tried to round the counter. Alice and I grabbed her quickly, each of us holding on to an arm - though we couldn't do much about her mouth.

"Of all the rotten, untrue, envious things to say! You've always been jealous of Bella because she's always been prettier, more elegant and more of a lady than you'll ever be! Why, you look like you're about to spill out of that dress!"

"Rose!" I said.

"And what more, she's got prettier boobs than you'll ever have!" Alice added.

"Alice!" I screeched.

Jessica's face turned bright red with fury. She put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest all the more. I took a step back, instinctively trying to remain out of missile range.

"Oh really?" she stormed. "Well at least _I_ never had to resort to pretending to drown or to sticking apples down my dress to get Edward to notice me! When I caught his eye, it was due to my natural endowments!"

"Ha!" Alice scoffed. "You mean your big, overgrown endowments! No, _you'd_ never drown; not with those two built-in flotation devices! You should probably let FDR donate those to the war cause in Europe!"

"That's it!" Jessica cried, slamming a fist over the glass counter, which made her flotation devices jiggle angrily. She pointed to the door. "Alice Cullen, get out of my store! You'll be lucky if I ever let you in here again!"

"This ain't your store, it's your pop's store, and I'm sure he'll let me back in whenever I want to come back cuz unlike you, he's no fool, and he knows he needs all the customers he can get what with that five and dime opening soon!"

"Alice, enough," I said to her calmly. "Go wait outside with Rose while I pay."

But Alice continued her tirade even as Rose dragged her out of the store. "And the only reason we're buying my wedding supplies from your store is because we don't have much of a choice right now, but soon as that Five and Dime does open, _I'm_ going to work there, and I'm going to be the best damn salesperson ever so that no one ever wants to come in here again!"

Jessica gasped indignantly, and as soon as Alice and Rose were out the door, she shifted her furious eyes to me.

"Nice friends you have, Isabella, with such filthy mouths. I'm sure your mother will be happy to hear of what transpired here today."

"I'm sure she will," I agreed solemnly, counting out the amount we owed before laying it down on the counter. "It was really something, and it should keep both our mothers entertained for quite a while." Gathering our purchases, I turned to leave.

"Oh, and by the way," I said, turning back to her once more. There was a bowl of shiny, red apples on the counter, so I picked one up and took a bite, leaning against the glass as I chewed. "Just to be clear, I never did need large, overgrown apples to get Edward to notice me. In fact, I happen to know that he much prefers his _apples_ smaller and…" – I let my eyes fall to her bust, as she'd just done to me – "rounder, so that they fit in his hands _perfectly_."

Her breath hitched sharply. "I'm going to tell my mother to tell your mother that you said that."

"Go ahead," I shrugged carelessly, taking another bite from the apple, "and I'll tell your father _and_ Mike all about what I saw out on the porch that summer. Thank you very much for your help," I added, holding up the doily fabric before turning back around and walking out.

##########

Olivia and Skye roll from side to side, their blond heads of hair splayed out wildly over the warm, green grass while they hold their stomachs to keep their shrieks of laughter from splitting their sides.

"Nana!" Olivia finally chokes, "that was friggin' on point! All you needed to do after that was drop the mike!"

I'm not sure what that means, but based on the pride radiating off of her, I assume it's something good.

"I swear Nana, if I ever need to burn anyone, I'm coming to you for advice!"

"Mama," Leah shakes her head, her lips twitching for a few seconds before she smirks and gives in to peals of laughter. Behind me, pushing me gently on the swing, I hear Isabella's hearty giggles.

I smile.

##########

Rose, Alice and I laughed all the way down the block.

"Can you imagine her nerve?" Rose said.

"You should've let me smack her right in her big, fat boobs!" Alice insisted.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, that would've been a _great_ idea."

When we met up with the boys, who were tired, dirty and cranky from a long day of work, Alice managed to make them laugh by quickly relaying the entire tale.

Edward, however, wasn't as amused as his brother or his best friend. Instead, he shook his head from side to side while playing with the dusty cap in his hands, the way he tended to do when upset.

"That entire thing is my fault."

"You weren't even there," I chuckled.

"Yes, but…if I'd never…" He sighed tiredly.

I wound my arms around his waist and looked up at him. His handsome face, smeared with grey dirt and grime, was shadowed by both powdery dust and self-reproach. The smudges circling his eyes somehow made the bright green in them stand out all the more.

"Edward, it's not your fault," I said quietly. "But you really shouldn't have ever courted her." When he frowned, I gave him a playful grin.

His mouth twitched for a few seconds before he finally gave in and chuckled. "I just can't believe that after the way she behaved, she had the nerve to call _you_ a little girl."

"_You_ used to call me Little Girl," I reminded him, raising a brow.

He smirked, tracing the outline of my mouth with his finger. "I did, didn't I? Well, you sure proved me wrong."

"Did I? And just how did I do that?" I whispered huskily.

He narrowed his eyes, studying me. "You're being fresh. Maybe I should call you Fresh Girl now." Then, quick as a flash, he wrapped me tightly in his arms, making me squeal.

"Come here, Fresh Girl!"

I pretended to struggle against him, turning my face from side to side. "Stay still!" he ordered, his mouth following mine and making me laugh. When he finally did catch my lips, I closed my eyes and wound my arms around his neck, ceasing all pretensions because kissing Edward was salvation and sin.

I smiled against Edward's mouth when I heard the rest of the group laughing at our silly, little display. Then he started sucking on my lips, nipping them playfully.

"Ow!" I chuckled.

"Bella!" Alice hissed.

Yes, we were putting on a public exhibition in the middle of Main Street, but I couldn't have cared less. With another chuckle, I reopened my eyes, my gaze automatically shifting to the spot just over Edward's shoulder, and my heart stopped.

Mother was sitting in the back seat of the Rolls Royce, with Felix at the wheel.

And she was glaring at Edward and me.

Frozen stiff, I didn't move a muscle while Edward, unaware of who was behind him, tried to guide my mouth back to his.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he chuckled. "I was just joking when I called you a fresh girl. You're my sweet girl. Give me some more of that sugar, Sweet Girl!" He growled, leaning in and puckering his lips.

"Edward," I whispered, placing my palms on his chest, my eyes still locked with Mother's.

"What?" he laughed, trying to pull me in.

"Stop," I shook my head.

Still laughing, he finally turned around, and I cringed at the way his laughter morphed into something resembling a whimper.

For one, long minute, the three of us simply stared at one another.

I managed to find my voice and disentangle myself from Edward before slowly approaching the Rolls. "Mother, what a…pleasant surprise. I had thought you and Papa Phil wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

"Yes, it's quite obvious what you thought," she smirked. "Your stepfather completed his business dealings early, and so we returned."

With no quick response, I simply stood there, staring at her like a deer trapped in headlights. When I felt a warm hand slide inside mine, I realized that Edward had come to stand next to me.

"Mrs. Dwyer, how are-"

Mother's eyes remained on mine. "Isabella, we're going home now. Please get in the car."

"Mother, I came into town with Alice and Rose. We were picking up wedding supplies."

"Well, now it's time to go home."

"But I have to help them sort through everything."

"Now, Isabella."

Clearing his throat, Edward attempted to address Mother once more.

"Mrs. Dwyer, if you'll allow me, I'll take the rest of the group home, and then Bella and I can meet you back at your house as quickly as-"

"Isabella, get in the car _now_."

More than anything, it was the way she kept disregarding Edward, acting as if he was merely a phantom who lacked any sort of matter that straightened my spine.

"Mother, Papa Phil informed me that he'd like to speak with both Edward and I when he returned from California; therefore, we will _both_ meet you at home in half an hour."

Mother's eyes widened. Her nostrils flared, and for a second, I wondered if she'd get out of the car and slap me, or physically try to drag me inside the car...or both.

And when Edward's hand tightened even more around mine, I wondered if he feared the same.

But Mother was not the type to make public scenes.

"I'll expect you home in half an hour, Isabella. _Half an hour_."

"Yes, Mother."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward and I sat in his car on the circular driveway to my house. He kept turning his cap around over and over in his hands.

"I wish I would've had time to wash up," he mused quietly, staring up at the house. "Don't really want to meet with your parents this way."

I angled myself towards him and used my thumbs to wipe away a few smudges of dirt laying in between the worry creases that had formed on his forehead. "You look fine," I smiled, pushing back a stray lock of dusty, copper hair. "You were working, and she wanted us back right away."

He snorted. "Yes, but I don't think your mother will buy that excuse."

I looked up at the large, white house, suddenly so imposing and ominous, like one of those houses hidden by an oppressive fog, deep in the moors of an English novel.

"Everything's going to be just fine, Sweetheart," Edward said, though it sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as me. He took my hands and knit our fingers together. "We'll see what they want, and…and everything will be just fine."

I breathed in a few uneven sighs and brought my eyes to Edward. "What if it's not?"

He smiled and cradled my face between his strong hands, his eyes full of conviction. "Either way, no one's going to take you away from me. I'm taking care of your heart, remember?"

I smiled. "I remember."

OOOOOOOOOO

Holding my breath, I knocked on the mahogany wood door to Papa Phil's office.

"Come in," Papa Phil called.

As Edward and I walked in hand in hand, Papa Phil sat behind his desk, standing as soon as we entered. Dressed in one of his dark, crisp, three-piece suits, he looked extremely business-like and intimidating.

That is, until he walked around his desk towards us and smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling.

Mother was seated on one of the chairs in front of Papa Phil's desk. The chair was angled sideways so that it faced both Papa Phil's desk and two chairs that had been placed opposite her, also angled in the same manner. She didn't turn to look at us.

Papa Phil gave me a tight hug. "How have you been, Isabella? How was your week?"

"It was…nice, Papa, thank you. I hope your trip went well?"

"It was…productive," he smiled. Then he turned his eyes to Edward, putting out a hand to shake his. "Edward, how are you, Young Man?"

Edward met Papa Phil's hand with some reluctance. "I'm doing well, Sir, thank you. I'd…like to apologize for my appearance." He looked down at himself in a deprecating manner. "I've come straight from work and-"

Papa Phil put up a palm. "No need to apologize. Putting in a day of honest, hard work is nothing at all to be ashamed of, whether it be done in an office or at a mill."

"Thank you, Sir," Edward replied with a touch of embarrassment.

"I was told you did very well in your first year of college," Papa Phil grinned, "and was glad to hear it. Your results bode well for your future at Dwyer Enterprises."

I could feel the discomfort rolling off of Edward, yet he responded very respectfully.

"Thank you, Sir. It was an interesting year."

We made small talk for a few minutes while Papa Phil looked between us, his eyes sometimes shifting from our eyes to our joined hands. Finally, during a pause in conversation, he clapped his hands once and turned around, walking back to his desk.

"Alright now, if you'll both take a seat, we'll get to the purpose of this meeting."

Somewhat warily, we took the seats across from Mother, and though I looked at her, she kept her gaze diverted from both Edward and I.

Once we were seated, Papa Phil grinned again.

"Isabella and Edward, Renee and I wanted to hold this meeting to discuss your relationship. We'd like to set some guidelines, if you will."

"What sort of guidelines?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothing so bad," he said, in a tone clearly meant to set us both at ease. "But you're both young, and sometimes at your ages, it makes sense to set out certain expectations that we, as your parents would have."

Mother snorted, shifting her cool gaze towards Papa Phil. "Are you ever going to ask him about what I just saw?" she scowled. "About the disgusting way in which he had our daughter on display less than an hour ago, groping her shamelessly in the middle of Main Street?"

"Mother, that's not true!"

"Mrs. Dwyer," Edward said, "with all due respect-"

"_Respect_," Mother harrumphed.

"Now this is why I wanted us to have this meeting," Papa Phil said calmly. "So that we can all lay out our expectations as concerns this relationship and avoid misunderstandings."

"It was only a misunderstanding because she only sees what she wants to see!" I snapped.

"Isabella," Papa Phil said. He gave me a mollifying smile, and for a second, I saw the smile I'd first seen on his handsome face, that day long ago in the Waldorf Astoria. "If you trust Edward to treat you well, then I, along with your Mother simply want to make sure-"

"Treat her well?" Mother interrupted once more. "Parading her around town as if she were nothing more than a little trollop constitutes treating her well?"

"Mother!"

"Mrs. Dwyer, I would _never_ treat Bella so disrespectfully," Edward said stiffly.

"Renee, this isn't what we agreed to. We agreed we were going to discuss their relationship calmly and rationally," Papa Phil said.

For the first time, Mother angled herself so that she faced both Edward and I, and the unadulterated hatred in her eyes when she glared at Edward made me wince.

"What do you know of respect when you've never even deemed it necessary to request permission to court her?"

"Mrs. Dwyer, I assure you that I-"

I stood up, full of indignation on Edward's behalf. "How dare you speak to him that way?"

"Isabella, please sit down," Papa Phil instructed.

"How dare I?" Mother retorted. "I dare because I'm your mother and I have every right!"

"You have _no_ right-"

"Renee."

"He's making you look like a fool!" she spit. "Why, he hasn't even had the decency to speak to me or-"

"Renee, he spoke to _me_," Papa Phil said firmly.

Both Mother and I turned stunned eyes towards him.

"Last summer, at his brother Masen's wedding, Edward asked for permission to court Isabella."

I pulled my eyes away from Papa Phil and shifted them to Edward, but he still had his eyes trained on Mother, watching her like a hawk ready to snatch me up and fly away with me at the slightest provocation.

"And you granted it?" Mother asked.

"He's an honest, upstanding young man, Renee. Both his parents are respectable, honest and well known to me; therefore, I trust him to treat her with the utmost respect."

Mother's nostrils flared. "_Both_ of his parents are respectable and honest," she snorted.

"Renee, watch your mouth," he warned quickly, his tone no longer quite as benign.

"Mrs. Dwyer, I assure you, I have nothing but the utmost love and respect for your daughter. I…" - Edward swallowed – "I apologize for the display in town, but I would never do anything to-"

But Mother was like a tiger, who'd found itself caged by those it perceived as enemies - a caged tiger ready to bite.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Isabella," she accused.

"He loves me, and I love him," I said, nostrils flaring. "That's all that matters."

"All he sees is your money."

I sucked in a sharp breath, too startled to respond right away. Next to me, I felt a sliver of indignation roll up Edward's spine.

"That's not true," he said through clenched teeth.

"Renee, I warn you; you'll have no say if this continues."

"Do you think I don't see it?" she asked Edward. "Between the scholarship and her trust fund, she's your ticket so that you don't end up stuck here like your-"

"Renee, enough!"

"I couldn't care less about the scholarship or her trust fund," Edward replied heatedly. "I'll give up the scholarship right now if it'll prove anything, and I'll sign any papers you have promising never to touch a cent from her trust fund."

"No, Edward!" I gasped.

"I assure you, young man," Papa Phil said, "that giving up that scholarship would only be detrimental to your relationship with our daughter."

Edward clenched his jaw, his face a mask of ire.

"As for her trust fund, that's not something we need to discuss at the moment. Renee, you _will_ control yourself," Papa Phil continued. "Not only have you insulted Edward and his family, but in the process, you've insulted my judgment."

Her eyes flashed. "Your judgment? You have _no_ judgment when it comes to _her_ or anything associated with-"

"I said that's ENOUGH!" Papa Phil bellowed, banging a fist against his desk and making Mother jump in her seat. He took a few deep breaths, and I marveled at the fact that I'd never seen his features so discomposed, his handsome face so distorted by rage.

"Now, these…accusations will end right now," he said, his voice shaking with his effort to remain level-headed, "or I'll ask you to leave while I finish this alone."

Mother pressed her lips together tightly, and I could see her struggle to hold her tongue. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Fine, I have no more _accusations_. I simply have a question for Isabella," she said, suddenly much more serene. "Does he know about Jacob and Peter, Isabella?"

My eyes widened, registering the shock before the betrayal. "Yes, Mother," I replied as evenly as possible. "He knows."

She nodded. "Then he knows that Jacob is expecting to ask Charles for his blessing to court you when he returns from the Navy?"

I stared at her for a few seconds, caught in a peculiar…awe at the depths she'd apparently go to in order to keep Edward and me apart.

I also realized that there was only one way she could know about Jacob's letters.

"You've been going through my things!" I screeched.

"For the love of God, Renee, what are you doing now?" Papa Phil asked, sounding exasperated.

"I know of Jacob's intentions, yes," Edward said through grounded teeth. "But Bella has assured me that she'll take care of that misunderstanding as soon as possible."

"Edward and I love each other, Mother," I told her, my voice shaking with resentment. "Don't you see that there's _nothing_ you can say or do to change that?"

"And I assume then, Edward, that you also know that Peter Vanderneck visits Isabella in school. That they've remained in touch throughout the year."

It was as if all the air had been abruptly sucked out of Papa Phil's office. All at once, I felt dizzy and nauseous, as if the room was spinning like one of those toy tops children enjoy playing with.

I gripped on to the arm chair tightly while beside me, it seemed as if Edward had stopped breathing.

Slowly, he turned bewildered and confused eyes to me.

"He visits you?"

"I was going to tell you," I said weakly.

"When has he visited you?" Edward asked.

"A couple of times," I whispered.

Edward's eyes bored into mine while I felt the spinning top that was my world rotate sharply, swaying from side to side.

"Edward," Mother said, her voice now soft and soothing, "do you really expect her to take this relationship very seriously? Why, she's not even seventeen yet. What's more, she's been going through a rebellious phase lately, and…well, you're just another way for her to rebel."

"That's not true!" I hissed, glaring at her before quickly shifting my eyes back to Edward. "Edward, you know that's not true!"

But Edward simply sat there, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down while he stared at me as if he were no longer sure who I was.

"Renee, you've gone too far, and now you'll no longer have any say in the relationship between Isabella and Edward."

But she'd already accomplished her mission.

"I'm only attempting to guide her," Mother said, "to teach her the difference between those who really care about her and those who simply want something from her."

Edward blinked his eyes away from me and turned his gaze to Mother. "The only thing I've ever wanted from your daughter is the same love and respect I've given her. Nothing more…and nothing less. Now if you'll excuse me, I need some fresh air."

And with that, he stood and stormed out.

"Edward, wait!"

Mother grabbed my arm. "Isabella!"

I shook her off. "Get off! How could you do this to me?" I sobbed openly.

"I did nothing but tell him the truth!"

"What the hell do you know about the truth? What do either of you know about the truth?" I shouted at both of them. "Do you think I don't see what's going on here? And you…" I scowled at Mother, "what have you ever known of love or respect that could _ever_ give you any damn right to teach me anything?"

"Isabella!"

And without waiting to hear more, I turned and ran out the door.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 29: **_**Be Honest With Me**_** (1941) by Gene Autry:**

_**Be honest with me, dear, whatever you do  
Remember you're mine, dear, so always be true...**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all on Thursday. :)**


	29. Chapter 28 - Guidelines

**A/N: I guess everyone is in agreement with at least one thing: Renee is a beeyotch.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Summer, 1941 - Guidelines**

Skye and Olivia no longer seem amused.

They sit over the grass with their backs stick straight, mouths drawn in matching, implacable lines and arms crossed against their chests.

With their blond hair and blue eyes, the twins favor their dad. But as I tilt my head and study them, I see generations of familiar features: the slant of their cheeks, the shape if not the color of their eyes, the way they purse their lips, tempers that flare but forgive just as quickly…

"Nana, no disrespect, but Grandmother Renee was in a class all her own – and I don't mean that as a compliment," Skye says.

"Never mind that crazy, old bitty," Olivia says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I want to know what the _hell_ was up with the rich boy visiting you at school, Nana?"

"Yeah!" Skye agrees. "What was all that about? And why hadn't you told the copper-haired boy about it?"

"And while we're discussing that, would you mind telling us why you hadn't you told the Chicago boy about the copper-haired boy yet?" Olivia further demands.

"Well, that one's easy," Skye says. "She couldn't very well write him a break-up letter while he was off serving his country!"

"They're called 'Dear John' letters," Olivia states dryly. "And the fact that they have their own name means that they're written pretty often and are quite acceptable."

"But think about the Chicago boy's feelings," Skye tells her sister.

"Screw the Chicago boy's feelings!" Olivia yells. "What about the copper-haired boy's feelings?"

"Alright, girls, alright," Isabella says, attempting to calm them down. "Maybe it's time we take a break. You girls are getting worked up and you're going to work up your Nana."

"No, no," I chuckle. "I'm glad to see that they're enjoying the story so much!"

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'enjoyable' right about now," Olivia fumes. "Nana, you have some serious explaining to do."

I sigh. "Yes, I suppose I do…I suppose I did…"

##########

My heart raced in my chest as I ran out of Papa Phil's office and made my way to the front door. Apparently sensing my anxiety, Sandy came bounding down the steps and started whimpering and jumping on my legs.

"It's okay, Girl," I said, my voice shaking as I patted her head. "I'm okay."

Outside, my eyes hastily scanned the landscape for Edward, and when I spotted his car exactly where we'd left it and saw him inside, I breathed a sigh of relief and knelt over the porch.

"I'll be right back, Sandy. You stay here. _Stay_," I said firmly, the way Edward had taught me to years ago.

She answered with sad eyes and a wagging tail.

Running to the car, I silently opened the passenger side door and took a seat next to Edward, who didn't even glance my way. For what felt like forever, we just sat there.

"Still feeling rebellious, Little Girl?" he finally said, his eyes firmly planted on the windshield.

There were few words he could've spoken that would've hurt more than those, and I had a feeling he knew that.

I reached out for him. "Edward, please…" But he quickly started the car, and I pulled back my hand.

We drove in silence, making our way down the increasingly dark roads. I snuck a few sideways glances in his direction, watching the way his chest heaved, the tight set of his jaw, the way his nostrils flared. My own hands rested in anxious fists at my sides.

A couple of miles away, he took a dirt road that led off the main lane and ended close to the river, and then he turned off the engine. In the still, silence, I could hear the gentle flow of the current, the small waterfalls emptying over protruding rocks. Somewhere above us, the birds sang their evening songs while the cicadas buzzed noisily in the swaying trees.

"I was going to tell you," I finally breathed, "I just…wasn't sure how."

He said nothing.

"Edward," I swallowed, "it's not what you're thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking," he said flatly, his eyes firmly on the windshield, fingers closed so tight around the steering wheel that I could see the whites of his knuckles.

"Yes, I do. You're thinking that I'm like _her_, like my mother."

He whipped his head towards me, evergreen eyes clouded with fury. "I've never compared you to your mother!"

"But you're thinking it!" I cried.

Nostrils flaring, Edward turned away from me and yanked open his car door, quickly stalking to my side. Opening my door, he took my hand and pulled me out before leaning me up against the car. His arms caged me in, palms flat against the car on either side of me.

Then he dipped irate eyes to my level.

"Listen to me, I have never, _ever_ compared you to your mother! But I would like to know why, in the name of all that's holy, you're accepting visits from Peter?" With every word, his voice rose in volume and pitch.

"That's not how it happened!"

"Then tell me what happened!"

"He came to see me around the holidays, about a week after you left, and offered to take me home for Christmas! He said he'd spoken to Mother and gotten her permission," – I gripped his forearms – "but I thanked him and told him that though it was thoughtful of him, I'd await Papa Phil's car to take me home!"

Edward snorted and shook his head, tilting it up to the clouded, somber sky.

"You _thanked_ him and told him it was _thoughtful_ of him," he echoed. "I swear to God, Bella, your manners are going to be the death of me."

I ignored his sarcasm and continued. "Then he came again right before Easter and once again offered to take me home! And once more, I tried to make it clear to him that I was with _you_, Edward! That I love _you_!"

He looked me in the eyes. "And what did he say to that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What did he say?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"He said that…he thought that he and I made more sense than you and I did, that he didn't think you and I would work out in the long run, but I told him that I didn't care what made more sense; that you're my _everything_!"

Edward's nostrils flared, and I could almost feel the fire coiled deep inside him. "Has he tried to see you or contact you again since then?"

I didn't answer.

"Has he tried to contact you?" he yelled.

"Yes, damn it, he did! He telephoned me once!"

Edward shut his eyes tightly, fisting the top of his hair.

"What did he say to you?"

"Edward-"

"Jesus Christ, Bella, just tell me what he said."

"He wanted..." I tried to avert my gaze, but Edward forced himself into my line of vision. "He said that he and I were a lot alike and that…he'd continue to try to prove his affection for me."

For one, long moment, Edward simply kept his eyes fastened to mine, but I could feel the vibrations of his fury traveling through the tight tendons in his arms and seeping into my own arms. He turned around and raked a hand through his hair, and just as I was about to go to him, he turned right back to me.

"Looks like you've got them lined up just waiting for me to take a misstep," he smirked.

"That's not fair! I did nothing, Edward, and I am _not_ lining them up!"

He stormed me again, making me gasp as his arms caged me in once more.

"Then why, Bella, haven't you told Jacob about me?"

"Because he's half a world away, and I don't want to hurt him!"

"No," he sneered, "you'd rather tear out my god damn heart with the knowledge that _my_ girl" – he dug his thumb into his chest – "is exchanging letters and telephone calls with not one, but two other guys. I'm supposed to stick my tail between my legs and be okay with that. How would it make you feel if I wrote love-letters with Jessica? Or if she came down to Seattle and visited me?"

"I'm not writing love-letters with anyone other than you," I seethed, "and I'd tear out your heart with my bare hands if I ever found out that you and Jessica were visiting each other!"

He smirked. "But I'm supposed to be okay with it."

"I told you, Edward! I told you last winter that I'd tell Jacob about us when he returned from the service, and you were okay with that! Now Peter visiting me was not my fault," I said as calmly as possible. "I didn't go anywhere with him, and I repeatedly told him-"

"Let's leave Peter out of this for now. I'll be taking care of _him_ when he arrives next week, but I can't touch Jacob because he's half a world away _and_ because I know that despite how much you claim you love me, some part of you loves him too."

"I love him like a brother! I've told you that!"

"Like a brother!" he snorted. "So how exactly will this work, Isabella, when it's _my_ turn to be half a world away? What should I expect? Will you be writing love-letters to me and telling _him_ that you can't break my heart until I return?"

Before I could even think about what I was doing, my palm connected hard with his face.

"How _dare_ you?" I sobbed. "How dare you claim you love me yet stand here and accuse me of something so vile and disgusting? Accuse me of being nothing more than a…a two-timing whore!"

Edward's eyes went wide. His face turned a bright shade of crimson, though I couldn't be sure if it was due to my words or due to the sting of my palm against his face. He palmed his cheek, blinking furiously, and then as quickly as his anger had ignited, all the blood seemed to drain from his face.

I pushed him as hard as I could and began stomping away, ready to walk back to Chicago if necessary, but he quickly grabbed my arm and turned me around, pulling me into him. And this time I didn't pretend to fight him as I'd done on Main Street just a couple of hours earlier. This time, I really did struggle against him.

"Get off of me! Let me go!"

"No," he said much more calmly, though his voice was shaking. His arms were wound around me unyieldingly. "No, I won't. I'll never let you go."

"Get off!" I demanded, and when he carefully pushed my head against his chest, I let out a long, ragged sob, refusing to melt against him they way my every atom begged me to.

"Sweetheart, please don't," Edward pleaded, his voice pained. "I didn't…I didn't mean that. I swear I didn't," he repeated over and over.

"You think I'm just like her! A cheater! A _whore_!"

"Jesus, Bella, don't ever say that," he said, choking over his own words. "I would never…please don't." He held me tightly and stroked my hair and my back, caressing the nape of my neck.

"I'm not her! I'm not!" I struggled against his grip, but I may as well have been fighting against steel locks.

"I'm sorry," he murmured fervently. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I don't think that. I don't. It was my pain and my pride talking, but I swear to you, I wasn't trying to call you a…I don't believe any of that. I let my pain speak, and I was wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."

And unable to fight against myself any longer, I wrapped my arms tightly around him and let myself melt into his skin, the warmth of his body seeping into mine as I cried on and on.

"I'm sorry, too," I said, my voice rough and ragged, "I'm so sorry, Edward. I should've told you about Peter as soon as it happened, and I should've told Jacob about us. I didn't know I was hurting you so much. I'll write him right now; I swear I will. I'm sorry."

"Shh," he soothed me, holding me so tightly it was hard to breathe. "Shh, don't cry, Sweetheart. Don't cry."

He knelt over the soft grass and situated me on his lap sideways, stroking my back and kissing my head and my face over and over until my tears finally subsided, and for a long while, we just sat there.

Eventually, I lifted my face to him.

Edward's brows drew close together as he gently dried my tears. I could tell by the crease just over his nose that he was still upset. His frown grew more and more pronounced with every drop he wiped.

"I think…this was your mother's plan all along," he said carefully. "That we'd argue and…I'd say stupid things, and…Bella, I already know I'm not good enough for you and that you can do better, but she wanted _you_ to see it." He snorted. "She's good."

I cradled his cheek, and he sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds before reopening them.

"Edward, we both said stupid things, and all I see is how little I can trust her and how much I need you. I may be...young, but I do know my heart. You're not a rebellious phase."

"I know, Sweetheart. I'm so sorry I called you a little girl…again."

I smiled weakly. "Edward, I really was going to tell you about Peter. I was just worried about your reaction."

He nodded. "I think...I would've reacted better if I'd heard it from you instead of from your mother."

"I know. I'm sorry." I rested my head against his chest and drew in a few uneven sighs while I listened to the rhythm of his beautiful heart even out.

"Bella…I _will_ be speaking to Peter when he comes next week."

My eyes trailed back up to his. "I just don't want it to become an issue at Alice's wedding."

"I promise you, I'll try my best not to let it turn into an issue, but I need this to stop, Bella. You have a beau, and he needs to respect that."

I cradled his jaw and nodded. His features relaxed.

"As for Jacob…I never meant to hurt you, Edward, and if I have to choose between hurting him or hurting you, I'll take care of your heart, the way you take care of mine."

He let out a self-deprecating snort. "What a joke, right? God," he breathed, shaking his head from side to side, "how many times am I going to let you down before you finally give up on me?"

"You didn't let me down, and I'll _never_ give up on you, Edward," I said emphatically. "_Never_. You were right; had it been the other way around, it would've killed me. I _will_ tell Jacob."

He gave me a soft kiss and held my gaze, swallowing. "Maybe he does deserve you more than I do," – his fingers covered my mouth before I could protest – "but I'm still not giving you up." He sighed. "Poor guy. Be kind to him, assure him he'll always have your friendship."

"I will," I smiled. "I'll tell my dad as well, when I'm in Chicago at the end of the summer, and…if you still want to meet me there in December, maybe…somehow…the three of us can try to be friends."

"Maybe," he said softly. "It might take some time though, Sweetheart. I honestly don't know if I'd be able to be friends with him if things were the other way around."

We were silent for a short while, lost in thought.

Then Edward drew in a deep breath and stood, cradling me in his arms and kissing me before gently setting my feet on the ground.

"I suppose I'd better get you back home now."

"No," I growled, "I don't want to see either one of them!"

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. "I'm not exactly anxious to see them either, but it's either go back or…"

When he pulled away, a defiant gleam suddenly shone in his eyes. "Or take you right now," he said, his voice thick and determined. "We could run off, Bella, and the hell with college, the hell with your school or with Dwyer Enterprises. The hell with any _expectations_ they might have," he sneered, his hands curving possessively around my waist while my heart hammered in my chest. "I could marry you right now, Bella, and keep working at the mill, and come home to you every night and…" – his eyes darkened – "and make the sweetest love and the most beautiful babies with you…"

He crashed his mouth to mine, his kisses urgent and full of a raw need that I was incapable of denying – a need I'd never had any desire to deny him.

"Yes, Edward," I breathed, holding his face between my hands while he trailed open-mouthed kisses all over my face and neck. "Yes," I murmured breathlessly, "let's do that. It's all I want, Edward. It's all I'll ever want…"

My mouth sought his anxiously, and when I found it, I slid my tongue against his and moaned quietly as they tangled together.

"Bella…" His hands skimmed lower, molding around my bottom and squeezing. I gasped into his mouth.

"Edward…make me yours in every way…"

But then Edward reached up and cradled my face between his hands, pulling me back.

"Except…"

"Except what?" I panted.

"Except…there are things that you want…things that you need…that you _deserve_, which I wouldn't be able to give you." He shook his head sadly. "Not this way."

"Edward…there's nothing I'll _ever_ want more than you."

"Maybe not more, Sweetheart," he smiled, "but there _are_ other things. You want to go to college."

I nodded.

"You want to be a veterinarian."

I held his gaze…and nodded again.

"You're so bright, Bella, so smart and good and…you want to continue your education. And you deserve that. You deserve a man who can keep up with you. Someone who can give you at least something close to what you deserve, and I won't be able to without that scholarship. I won't take away from you, Bella," he said vehemently. "Bad enough I'm taking you away from the world they've been preparing you for most of your life."

"What about Rose and Alice?" I pointed out. "Why is this good enough for them but not for me?"

"_You_ aren't them, Bella," he smiled. "You're meant for more. I've always known that."

"Papa Phil would help."

"No, he wouldn't." He tenderly stroked my face. "Why do you think he gave me that scholarship? And I don't blame him. If I were responsible for someone so perfect, I'd ensure nothing but the best for her as well. Matter of fact, that's exactly what I'm going to try my damnedest to do."

My lungs felt constricted. When he pulled me against him again and wrapped his arms around me, I fought to hold back the tears. Yet as much as he wanted the best for me, I wanted the best for him as well, and if we ran away now, _he_ wouldn't be getting all he deserved.

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We'll go back, and we'll listen to what they have to say, and this time, I'll be the man you need, Bella. They can throw whatever they want at me." He pulled back and held my gaze. "Your mine, Bella. That's all it comes down to. Selfish of me or not, regardless of who has a hard time accepting it, you're mine. Always."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "Always," I managed to breathe.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was completely dark when we arrived back at the house. The landscape lanterns had all been lit to illuminate the evening, casting a warm, bright glow against the house's clean, white siding.

Mother and Papa Phil were sitting out on the porch, each holding a drink in hand. Papa Phil stood when we approached, looking somewhat…relieved.

Mother looked at us with neither relief nor annoyance nor anything at all really registering in her expression.

"I'm glad you're both back," Papa Phil said when Edward and I approached the porch. "Please take a seat."

We sat together on the two-seater, hand in hand.

I cleared my throat. "Papa Phil, before we continue, I just want to say one thing."

"Isabella, this was never meant to be a one-way discourse," he responded. "Please, go ahead."

Mother said nothing.

I squeezed Edward's hand. "I just want to make it perfectly clear that I love Edward with my entire soul, and while that may sound childish to _some_ \- like a young girl's crush or even rebellion, I assure you that it's neither. I'll love Edward until the day I die, and I'm not attempting to be dramatic, it's simply a fact. Therefore, I won't bow down to threats or bribes regarding our education or my trust fund." I held Papa Phil's gaze. "I appreciate everything I've been given, but if asked to make a choice between love or gain, I'll choose love."

Papa Phil kept me locked in his gaze for a long time afterwards. Eventually, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Love is always a good choice, Isabella," he said quietly, "but sometimes it takes more than that to make a relationship work. It may not be the most romantic way to look at things, but it's reality." He kept melancholic, blue eyes on me for a few more seconds before setting down his glass on the side table.

"Alright, let's continue where we were before things took a decidedly unfocused turn. My wife and I have decided that I'll take charge of this conversation. There are a few guidelines to your relationship that I'd like to set, and when I'm done, I think you'll both see that we're not asking for anything all that extraordinary."

"Yes, Sir," Edward said respectfully.

"First, though Isabella just stated that she'll put you before her own education, I want to make it clear that that's not an option. An education is quite important in this day and age, especially for a woman in a position to have a strong voice in the world around her. I want Isabella to complete hers."

"We agree on that, Sir," Edward nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, since we agree that Isabella _will_ finish her education, I'd also like to make it clear that I do ask you to finish yours as well. Isabella will be a well-prepared young woman, and it only makes sense that the man at her side be just as well-prepared."

"Again, we're in agreement," Edward said.

"This is going splendidly." Papa Phil grinned, but it was soon replaced by a more serious expression, one I was sure he wore when he was in a room full of power-wielding men. "I hope this makes it clear that I'll support this relationship as long as there's no unnecessary interruption in your education. And while I'm aware that my support is not necessary for your relationship to continue, we all know it won't hurt. Is that clear?"

Edward pressed his lips together tightly.

"Are we clear, Young Man?"

Slowly, Edward nodded. "But as my own clarification, once I'm done with my education and with the…internship," Edward said tightly, "I'll make my own way in the world. I'm not looking for any handouts."

"Nor am I offering any," Papa Phil countered. "I didn't get to where I am by offering random handouts, Edward. Your goals may definitely change, and those are things we can discuss in the future. Trust me, I'm aware of how quickly the world can shift."

They held each other's gazes.

"Now, I only have a few more requests, and I trust you'll find them easy enough to comply with."

We both nodded for Papa Phil to continue.

"One, this relationship will no longer be a secret. I don't like Isabella sneaking around. You have _both_ Renee's and my permission to court her now; therefore, I expect it to be done out in the open. I know she's more than welcome at your parents' house and by your family, but by the same token, I expect you to come to her door and seek her out as well. I do realize that you're working this summer, and I'll take that into account, but Isabella will have a curfew that I expect you both to abide by."

"But-"

"Yes, Sir," Edward said.

I huffed.

"Second, because this relationship has been going on in such a covert manner, I'm afraid that a few things have suffered. Isabella, you _will_ resume your weekly lessons."

"Yes, Papa," I mumbled.

"And I want you home for supper four nights a week."

"But Papa-"

"In addition, once a week," Papa Phil continued, ignoring my interruption, "I expect you to join us at suppertime, Edward. I believe it's important that both Renee and I get to know you better. You and Bella can pick which night of the week is most convenient. Of course, I expect you both to dress properly and to be prepared to hold your part of a conversation. Lastly, I also realize that once the school year begins, you'll be far from each other and that separation can be difficult. Therefore, Edward, you'll be allowed to visit Isabella once or twice during the year, but you must inform me before-hand, so we can make arrangements that are suitable for everyone."

Throughout the last half of Papa Phil's speech, I stared at him slack-jawed.

"Now, I'm sure Isabella will be speaking to Charles about you as soon as possible if she hasn't done so already, and Isabella, I ask that you let me know when you do, so he and I can have any discussions necessary regarding what rules for courtship we may need to coordinate. But I assume his expectations will be similar to mine."

Edward and I were both silent.

Mother hadn't said a word.

Finally, I heard Edward swallow audibly.

"I…thank you, Sir, for laying out your expectations so clearly. I promise you that to the best of my ability, I'll make every attempt to abide by your rules and your requests." He drew in a deep breath, and out of my periphery, I saw him straighten in his seat, his hand tightening around mine. "I would, however, like to make a couple of requests of my own."

Papa Phil's brows rose, apparently surprised by Edward's request. But then a soft grin formed on his face, as if he were somehow…pleased.

"By all means," he smiled. "Please let us know your requests and we'll see if we can accommodate them."

Edward squared his jaw. His eyes quickly flashed to Mother before moving back to Papa, but Mother simply kept her gaze front and center.

"First, I'd like to request that since you've given your permission for me to court Bella, that no other man be…_encouraged_ to seek her out."

Papa Phil nodded slowly. "A reasonable request as long as you continue respecting and properly caring for Isabella. Go on."

"Thank you," Edward said evenly. "And since you agree with that, then I believe it would only make sense that Peter not be allowed to stay under the same roof as Bella when he visits."

Mother flashed furious eyes to Edward. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shut it quickly, squeezing her eyes tightly.

"Peter Vanderneck is the son of a friend and important business associate of mine," Papa Phil said serenely.

"I realize that, Sir," Edward replied. "But he's continuously made overt attempts towards Bella even though she's repeatedly turned him down, and I can't have that. I can't have him under the same roof as her, not until he understands that she _is_ spoken for." His chest heaved.

Papa Phil studied Edward. "Very well, we'll make arrangement if necessary, but that doesn't mean they'll never be in the house together or that they won't associate with one another," he clarified. "I'm sure we can figure things out so that everyone is comfortable. I'll speak to Peter-"

"No, Sir, with all due respect, _I'll_ speak to Peter," Edward said. "I believe that as Bella's beau, it's both my right _and_ my responsibility."

Papa Phil narrowed his eyes, and I imagined that the look he gave Edward was most likely the look he gave the men with whom he did business.

But Edward didn't even blink.

Papa Phil finally sighed. "You're both educated young men, and I'd like you to resolve your issues as such."

"As long as he stops going after Bella, that should be no problem."

"Fair enough."

They both reached over and shook hands.

At this, Mother abruptly stood up and stormed into the house.

Papa Phil pretended not to notice. "Very well, then." He clapped his hands together once the way he'd done back in his office. "I believe we're done. Continue your educations, no more sneaking around, keep the curfew, keep the supper schedules, come to me with any questions, and…all should be fine," he smiled.

"Thank you, Papa." I grinned from ear to ear, full of so much relief it was impossible to repress.

Papa Phil grinned back at me, but it was one of those wistful, sad grins I'd learned of long ago.

"You're welcome, Isabella, Sweetheart." He looked from me to Edward and back.

"You're both still very young, and…and I simply want to make sure that you're on even ground so that the choices you make, one way or the other, aren't colored by unnecessary issues that mean nothing in the end. Soon enough…" he leaned forward in his seat, as if getting ready to impart something extremely valuable, "soon enough, the real world has a way of imposing itself and forcing you to make decisions. I don't want you to look back someday and wish you would've done things differently."

And with that, he stood.

"You have a curfew, Isabella. I'll expect you indoors by then."

"Yes, Sir," I said quietly.

And with another wistful smile, Papa Phil picked up his drink and walked inside.

OOOOOOOOOO

That night in bed, I replayed the entire conversation with Mother and Papa Phil in my head, from the moment we'd first walked into Papa Phil's office to the moment he'd walked into the house from the porch.

After our talk, Edward and I had strolled hand in hand around the grounds of the house, no longer forbidden from doing so. He'd quietly wondered what Papa Phil could've possibly said to Mother to get her to acquiesce so easily – and silently – to our relationship.

I told him I had no idea.

He also wondered what all that drama had been about in Papa Phil's office, why Mother had looked at Papa so resentfully.

Again, I shrugged, claiming complete ignorance.

But in my dreams, I saw it clearly…the way your best ideas, your brightest inventions, and your greatest revelations come to you in those few minutes before your mind succumbs to unconsciousness, when an empty and clear head makes room for signs that would never register during your busy, wakeful hours.

The nine and a half months a year that I spent in school were long, and I spent a lot of time thinking of the people that filled my life back then: my friends from Chicago, my friends from Forks, my dad, Edward's parents, my parents.

And of course, Edward.

I thought of the relationships that had filled their lives when they were all young like us, before we came along.

"_You have no judgment when it comes to __**her**__ or anything associated with…"_

In my dreams, I knew who _she_ was…and she wasn't me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song #30: Let's Get Away From It All (1941) by Tommy Dorsey:**

_**Lets take a boat to Bermuda,  
Lets take a plane to Saint Paul,  
Lets take a kayak to Quincy or Nyack,  
Lets get away from it all.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	30. Chapter 29 - Perfect Days

**A/N: Thank you so much for your continued thoughts. Things are still really busy at the PR household, but I'll get back to you guys as soon as I get a chance!**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 29 – Perfect Days**

"So you and the copper-haired boy were officially boyfriend and girlfriend with no one and nothing to hide from," Isabella says quietly behind me.

"We were official then; yes, we were," I smile. "All obstacles to our relationship were gone. Papa Phil had given us the green light, and if Philip Dwyer told us we could move forward, who and what was left to keep us apart?"

##########

Now in the interest of following Papa Phil's guidelines in order to stay in his good graces, I resumed my tutoring lessons, stuck to my curfew, and invited Edward to come over for supper the Monday before Alice's wedding. This time, he showed up dressed in his best dark slacks, a white, button down shirt, and with his copper hair brushed back so clean it shined.

It was an…interesting supper.

"Edward, Isabella tells me that you and your brother are almost done with the house you've been working on for him and his wife," Papa Phil said, taking a sip from wine glass.

Edward, who'd been carefully cutting his steak, set down his utensils quietly and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Sir, we are. It should be ready by the end of summer so that Rose can move in before we head back to school."

"I suppose she'll find herself a bit lonely after having gotten used to living with your parents this past year," Papa Phil said.

"Well, I imagine she'll still spend plenty of time at my mama and pop's. It's only a couple of acres away, and it's a small place for now. Masen plans on expanding it later, but they've got to save up some in order to fill up the rooms they'll have now."

Papa Phil nodded, and a pensive look filled his features. "It's always good to start slow. They'll expand when they can. I believe I'd…like to stop by and take a look at how it turned out, the foundation and the handiwork – if neither of you mind."

Edward shrugged. "I don't mind, and I don't see why Mase would."

Papa Phil grinned. "Good. Knowing how to work with your hands is always an important thing, just as important as working your mind, if you ask me. Wouldn't you agree, Darling?" He turned his gaze to Mother.

She looked at him, chewing her steak methodically, and then looked away without answer.

"Of course you agree," he smiled pleasantly.

Edward and I looked at one another and said nothing.

"Now, Edward, has Isabella told you that she finished her junior year in school at the top of her class?" Papa Phil asked. "I just received her final grades last week."

I felt the blush crawl up my face as Edward turned smiling eyes towards me. "No, I didn't know that. That's wonderful, Sweet- Bella," he cleared his throat. "I'm really proud of you."

"I'm just trying to keep up with you," I grinned sheepishly.

He grinned back.

"She's a very smart young woman," Papa Phil beamed, "and we'll be looking at colleges very carefully come this fall."

I set my own utensils down now. "Papa Phil, I would like to stay on the west coast for college."

"Those are definitely things that you, your mother and I can discuss in the next few weeks."

My eyes drifted to Mother, but she had her wine glass in hand, staring straight ahead.

"Yes, Sir."

Under the table, I felt Edward's hand curve around my leg and squeeze, and I breathed in deeply.

We carried on some more conversation while we dined on our filet and fresh vegetables, occasionally sipping on wine. Once we were done, the servants came to clear the table and serve dessert and coffee. And once those were done, Edward cleared his throat nervously once more and looked at mother.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer, that was a fine meal. Thank you very much for having me over."

I stared down at my plate, holding my breath. Mother had barely uttered a word to me since the day Papa Phil had laid down the law, but I honestly couldn't find it in me to care. It was when she'd ignore Edward that my blood would boil.

"You're quite welcome," she finally said, her tone clipped and short, but nevertheless, I closed my eyes in relief.

"Thank you, Edward, for coming to dine with us this evening," Papa Phil said. "Both Isabella's mother and I enjoyed getting to know you a bit better, and we look forward to more of these suppers."

"Yes, Sir," Edward responded.

"May we be excused?" I asked.

Once more, it was Papa Phil who answered. "Yes, you may. We'll expect you home by curfew."

"Yes, Sir, thank you."

We stood carefully, placing our napkins over the table. With his hand on the small of my back, Edward followed me out, and as soon as we were out of the dining room, he swung me around and pressed me against the wall, wrapping me in his arms and pressing his mouth to mine. I giggled and wound my arms around his neck.

"Shh!" he chuckled lowly, biting my bottom lip. "My heart's racing! I don't know how I survived that!"

"You did wonderfully, and you'd better get used to it because we'll be going through it again next week!"

"Jesus." His tongue tangled with mine, and I sighed into his mouth, cradling his face between my hands while he ran his own hands up and down my back.

"For you," he breathed, his warm breath fanning over me, "for you, I'll go through anything. Now let's go hide behind a tree somewhere."

And then running and laughing, we made our way out of the house.

OOOOOOOOOO

The week before Alice's wedding was quite hectic with all the last-minute preparations. Edward and I had very little time alone together as we all worked and planned and prepared and argued in the misty, cool mountains of Washington.

And then, two days before the wedding, the sun shone brightly, casting its long rays over the majestic woods, warming the grass under our feet, so we decided to say the heck with it all.

Esme baked us a couple of apple pies as Alice, Rose and I made sandwiches and lemonade while the boys gathered towels and blankets. For that day, we forgot it all – chores, work and everything else taking up our time, and the six of us went off to the river.

The sun was warm, but the water was cold though unusually calm. The current flowed over the rocks smoothly like a gentle tide on a warm beach rather than like the normal demanding rush and rumbling of the river's stream.

We splashed and jumped around as if we were little kids again. Sandy jumped in and out easily with the younger Gus at her side. Both of their manes were left soaking wet, turning hers brown instead of tan and making Gus's black fur shine so brightly it looked almost white.

Edward carried me on his back while I wrapped my legs around him much the same way I'd done when I was nine. He kept throwing himself backwards into the water, and I'd squeal in delight as we sank deep into the stream. Then he'd help me up and hold me tightly to him, kissing me, gripping my waist while his fingers caressed the bare skin between my bathing top and bottom, and I stroked his strong shoulders, golden from the sun while I gazed into deep, evergreen eyes.

And then later, Masen and Edward tied a rope to a tree, and we took turns yelling like Tarzan and jumping into the water while Gus and Sandy barked and chased us over the footbridge.

We laughed and played, and when it cooled off, each couple grabbed towels and a blanket and gave one another enough room for privacy; each pair sinking over the warm, green grass while Sandy and Gus ran around, drying up their wet fur.

There's probably more I don't recall about that day, but I remember opening my eyes and finding Edward hovering over me while the setting sun shone over the back of his head. It looked like a halo encircled his crown, making him look like a dark angel with the way his hair glowed a bright, fiery red.

When he draped his body over mine and kissed me, the warmth of his mouth and the heat emanating from every plane of his body made me sigh in deep contentment. It wasn't mere happiness; it was a state of carefree buoyancy: an untroubled outlook on life that can never be truly recreated once real responsibilities set in with jobs and marriages and children because regardless of how happy they make you, there will always be concerns and worries. My bliss came from being surrounded by absolutely everyone I loved and from knowing that we were _all_ free of cares that day, and that, as far as I could see, there were only good things on our horizon.

Like the calm flow of the river, it was a rare, absolutely perfect day.

And when Edward pulled away, I studied his bright green eyes, the way they sparkled softly, his strong forehead and straight nose. He reminded me of those Greek Gods from our history books with his full lips and square jaw angled perfectly. He even had a small birthmark on the left side of his jaw, a wonderfully round birthmark, and I knew that no matter what ever happened in our lives, I'd _never_ allow even one of his features to fade from my memory.

"What?" he smiled curiously at the intensity in my gaze.

"Edward…do you think you get to make up your own heaven?"

"What do you mean?" he chuckled.

"I mean, when you die, do you think it's all smoky clouds and angels dressed in long, white robes playing harps in the sky while surrounded by peace and quiet, or do you think a person can make up her own heaven?"

"I've never really thought about it," he smiled indulgently.

"Because if I can make my own heaven, I want it to be this: Today."

"Why today?" he snorted.

I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the sun kindle my skin while Edward's light touch teased the length of my torso back and forth. Somewhere to my left, Alice and Jasper chuckled heartily while somewhere to my right, Rose and Masen spoke in hushed whispers. Sandy's weight was warm and comforting at my feet while Gus panted rhythmically next to her.

When I reopened my eyes, Edward was grinning softly. "You're right, Sweetheart. This _is_ heaven."

###########

Skye sighs. "It sounds like it was a beautiful afternoon, Nana."

"It was." I smile at the memory. "It wasn't long after…" I sigh, "just a few months later…well, I've replayed that day to myself a number of times over the years."

##########

The afternoon before Alice's wedding, Edward, Masen and a few of the other neighborhood boys were going up to Jasper's for one last hurrah before he was tied down by the old ball and chain – as Jasper had laughingly put it. Edward let me know that this little shindig would _not_ involve girls - other than possible pin-ups of Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth in swimsuits; though, he assured me that he wouldn't be ogling those pictures because thinking of me in my swimsuit was more than enough for him.

That same afternoon, I was hosting a small, bridal shower for Alice back at my house. Esme, Mrs. Cope and I had spent the entire afternoon preparing the sun room with decorations, making punch and finger sandwiches, and setting aside records for listening and dancing. Even Mother had gotten into the spirit: standing off to the side and holding a glass of sherry while supervising.

After the party, I'd be going home with Alice and spending the night there. Papa Phil had allowed it as Edward and the rest of the boys would be spending the night at Jasper's - and as part of the agreement that he'd reached with Edward regarding Peter, who would be arriving that afternoon, just in time for the following day's wedding.

In fact, I'd heard the servants whispering that Peter had already arrived and gone straight into Papa Phil's office, but as the sun room was in the east wing of the house facing the back yard and Papa Phil's office was in the west wing towards the front of the house, I hadn't seen him.

"Bella, should we start with _Chattanooga Choo Choo_ or with _Green Eyes_?" Mrs. Cope called out from the hallway.

"Definitely _Green Eyes_," I said as I squeezed the pastry bag to get the deviled egg filling inside the egg white. Next to me, Sandy kept jumping on my legs.

When the music started, I quietly sang the lyrics to myself, swaying to the beat of the music and moving my hips from side to side.

"Miss Isabella, should I take this tray into the sun room?" Lily, one of the servants helping me get the aperitifs ready, asked.

"Yes, please," I smiled. "Everyone should be here soon. And thanks so much for all your help, Lily."

"You're very welcome, Miss," Lily smiled before carrying off the tray of freshly cut fruit.

And now that Sandy and I were alone in the kitchen, I finally turned to her.

"Yes, yes, I know what you've been waiting for," I smirked. "Sit," I said firmly. "Paw," I further instructed. "Good Girl," I complimented once she'd given me her paw. And when I threw the egg in the air, Sandy jumped and caught it mid-flight, and I laughed quietly. "Good job! Who says you can't teach an older doggie new tricks? Now _out_," I commanded, pointing my finger out of the kitchen, and then in a whisper, I added, "before Mrs. Cope catches us and tans both our hides!"

And just as I picked up the tray to carry it into the sunroom, someone grabbed me from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist, spinning me quickly and capturing my mouth with his. I would've dropped the tray had he not reached out and taken it from me, and when he pushed his tongue inside my mouth, I moaned softly and shut my eyes, cradling his jaw in one hand.

Chuckling impishly, Edward pulled away and set down the tray on the counter next to him, and then he turned me around in his arms.

"What if it hadn't been me?" he asked.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Who else would it have been?"

"Some lucky guy just happening by who heard all that music and got close to the windows to investigate only to see the most glorious, little nymph in existence shaking her hips and swaying her tiny little waist from side to side." He grinned.

"Oh, so you just happened to be wandering through the woods, minding your own business," I smiled.

"Yup." Half his mouth crooked up in a semi-smirk while his eyes skimmed me from top to bottom. He tapped his lips lightly to mine, one finger trailing back and forth from one shoulder to the other.

"You look beautiful."

I glanced down at the spaghetti-strapped, pastel green crop top I wore, paired with the high-waisted matching skirt to me knees and felt the heat rise from my white-sandaled feet to my bare shoulders and higher.

"Thank you. You look very handsome as well," I breathed.

He snorted. "I'm not all dressed up the way you are."

"You always look handsome no matter what."

We gazed at one another for a few seconds, and then he dipped his mouth to mine once more, capturing it in a breathy, deep kiss while his hands roamed up and down my bare back.

When he pulled away, he cleared his throat. "I wanted to see you for a little while before I headed to Jasper's, and…I figured it'd be better if I spoke to Peter tonight instead of at the wedding tomorrow."

"I figured as much," I smirked. "Anyway, you may have a bit of a wait if you want to speak to him tonight. He's with Papa Phil, and when those two start talking business, it's hours before they reemerge."

"Have you seen him?" he frowned darkly.

"No, Edward," I sighed, "I haven't seen him. I've been busy, and…is this really necessary? I'm not even spending the night here tonight. What's the point?"

He exhaled loudly. "The point is, Bella, that he needs to accept the fact that you're spoken for."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, moving in close again. "Alright, alright. I don't want to argue over Peter again. I…wrote to Jacob today."

He cradled my face in his hands, his features softening. "You let him down easy?"

"I tried," I sighed. "I told him he'd always be one of my best friends, and I told him that you'd like to meet him. Though I don't know when he'll receive the letter. I don't know if his ship is still out in the Pacific or if his fleet is docked at the moment. Writing him is so erratic; sometimes it takes months to get his letters."

Edward breathed deeply. "What matters is that you wrote it, Sweetheart. _Thank you,"_ he breathed gratefully. "Bella, I know you love me; I'm just not comfortable with other men chasing after you, especially Peter," he scowled.

"Edward, why do you hate Peter so much?" I frowned curiously. "You ask me to let Jacob down easy, yet you'd love to see Peter's heart broken, wouldn't you?"

He responding snicker was answer enough.

"What did he say all those years ago," I wondered aloud, "when we were kids at that barbecue, when you hit him?"

He held my gaze for one long moment. "Bella, we were just kids; it's not what he said, it's just…" – he shook his head.

"Just what?" I asked with a confused smile. "What is it?"

"Peter has it all, you know? Even when we were kids, he always got what he wanted, and that's fine. I don't envy him, his name, his cars, or anything he has, Bella. But he can't have _you_."

I chuckled softly and rested my head on his strong chest. "He'll never have me, Edward. I'm yours," I assured him. "True and loyal hearts, remember?"

"True and loyal hearts," he breathed, kissing the top of my head.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward left a few minutes later, and I performed my maid-of-honor hostess duties for Alice's bridal shower. We had a very nice time, and once it was done and everyone left, I ran up to my room to gather my things while Alice and Rose waited for me in the Cullens' car. As I rushed out of the bedroom, I rounded the corner and gasped as I crashed right into a tall, lean chest. A pair of arms held me firmly.

Peter chuckled, his blue eyes bright and dancing with mischief…all much too close for my comfort. "I'm sorry, Isabella, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's quite alright," I said, moving out of his arms and taking a couple of steps back. I smoothed down my hair and my dress. "I was just in a hurry and wasn't paying attention."

Twenty years old now, Peter had grown from the tall, taciturn, proud and somewhat arrogant thirteen-year-old boy I'd first met, into a tall, confident, intelligent, proud and somewhat arrogant young man who would soon be taking over his family's interests. He looked every part the aristocratic, blue-blood he'd been bred to be.

"You look wonderful, Isabella. How've you been?"

"I've been very well, thank you." I paused. "And you?"

"I've been good," he smiled. His eyes took me in from top to bottom, and then he leaned in and whispered, "Is he gone?" as if we were sharing an intimate secret.

I backed up some more. "You knew that Edward was waiting for you?"

"Your stepfather mentioned that the…courtship between you and Edward is now official and that your beau would like to have a talk with me. What that talk may be about he didn't mention, but I've got a pretty good idea," he smirked. "Either way, I've had a long trip and wasn't in the mood for him tonight."

"I told him you visited and telephoned me," I said.

"I figured you would," he grinned.

"He wasn't happy about it."

"I didn't think he would be," Peter chuckled.

I held his gaze warily, trying to figure out what exactly went on behind Peter Vanderneck's well-groomed façade. Then I shook my head quickly.

"Enjoy your stay, Peter." I made to move past him, but he blocked my way.

"Will I be seeing you later this evening?" he asked lowly.

"No. I'll be spending the night with Alice."

"At your beau's house?" he asked with a raised brow. "Have things progressed that much?"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. "Edward and the rest of the boys will be spending the night at Jasper's."

Peter chuckled. "I was just joking, Isabella. You seem…uncomfortable. Has Edward warned you to stay away from me?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I seem uncomfortable, Peter, it's because you insist on flirting with me even after I've told you I have a beau. And Edward would never warn me to stay away from anyone. He isn't like that. He just wants you to…well, I'll let him say what he needs to say to you. Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Isabella," Peter smiled cockily, and as I walked away, I felt his eyes on me until I turned the corner.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice and I lay in her bed on our sides, facing each other while talking and giggling into the very late hours. We reminisced about being little girls, about when we first met, about the first time Edward carried me home, and about the first time Jasper kissed her. I told her about Peter, and she told me that she'd finally gotten Jasper to relent and let her apply for that job at the five and dime.

We talked about what she'd probably be doing the following night.

"We almost did once," she confessed.

"When?" I breathed.

"A couple of months ago. We were engaged already, so it's okay, you know. Mama and Pop were visiting the Johnsons, so we snuck up here and fooled around and-"

"Wait," I interrupted, "you fooled around on this bed?"

"Yes."

"Ewww, let me off!"

She smacked my arm, giggling like a little girl. "If that's the case, I suppose I'll never be sitting anywhere near _your_ bed either!"

We giggled loudly. "Alright, alright," I finally said, "go on."

"Anyway, we snuck up here, but Bella, it grows _so_ big, and I was scared it would get stuck in there and Mama and Pop would burst in and find us in the middle of-"

"Alice…are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I am," she snorted. "I'm sure it'll fit just fine once we-"

"I'm not talking about that, Alice, and you know it."

She was quiet. "I love him with all my heart, Bella."

"I know you do," I said gently. "But…if you had the chance to do something, to go somewhere and have some grand adventure, and you had to choose between marrying Jasper tomorrow or having that adventure, which would you choose?"

She was my very best friend, and if I didn't ask, who would? In the interest of fairness, I asked myself the same question at the same time, and my answer was automatic: I'd choose Edward. Yes, I wanted more, and I recognized that I was fortunate enough to be able to have more. But if I _had_ to choose, I'd choose Edward.

"What difference does it make, Bella?" she chuckled, but there was no humor in her laugh. She lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I _don't_ have the chance to go off and have some grand adventure."

"Would you choose him?" I persisted.

"Bella…"

"Would you choose him?"

"This is stupid."

"Just answer me."

"I don't know!"

We were quiet.

"I don't know," she breathed, "but really, what difference does it make? It doesn't mean I don't love him! It doesn't mean I don't want to marry him! It doesn't mean I'd want any other man besides him!"

"Maybe it means…" I gently adjusted the cap covering her rollers, "that now just isn't the right time. Maybe you could talk to him early tomorrow morning, and you two can wait a little while and-"

"And what, Bella?" she snorted, turning back on her side to face me. "Bella, this _is_ my grand adventure. Be _happy_ for me, please," she pleaded through eyes so different from her brothers.

I smiled as broadly as possible. "I _am_ happy for you." I reached over and hugged her tightly. "I'm so happy for you."

And I tried my very best to mean it with all my heart and soul.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

_**I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (1941**_**) - A classic tune done by many artists of the day such as The Ink Spots, Guy Lombardo, Vera Lynn and Tommy Tucker:**

_**I don't want to set the world on fire  
I just want to start a flame in your heart**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you guys on Thursday!**


	31. Chapter 30 Summer, Wonderful Summer

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. Some have asked how many more chapters are left. Don't hold me to it, but I'd say somewhere between 15 and 20 more, might be less than that, might be more. :) **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 30 – Wonderful Summer**

Alice stood stoically by the window, glowering at the gathering clouds in the dark, imposing sky, currently hiding the majestic mountains from view.

"What rotten luck!" she stormed.

"It's _good_ luck, Sweetheart!" Esme said cheerfully. "Rain on the day of a young woman's wedding is supposed to signal a long and happy marriage!"

"They just say that to try to cheer up the poor, unfortunate brides who have to get married in a deluge," Alice moaned.

"I wouldn't call it a deluge," I smiled brightly, coming to stand next to her and wrapping my arm around her shoulder, "more like a…happy, summer shower."

She rolled her eyes.

"Ally, you look…beautiful," I sighed. "You and Jasper are going to be so happy, and the clouds just want to be here to witness it." I hugged her tightly before pulling back. "I'm going to ruin your dress."

Esme had made her a simple, white crepe gown with a sheer neckline that ended at the fitted bodice and a skirt that flowed all the way down to her calves. Her hair was up in a bun, and she wore a simple, wide headband and small, white pearls on her ears. While Rosalie had looked like a Hollywood starlet at her wedding the previous year, Alice looked like the sweetest angel.

I pushed the previous night's conversation out of my mind. This would be a wonderful, happy day. Alice Cullen soon-to-be Whitlock had made up her mind, and when a Cullen made up his or her mind, there was no going back, as I was soon to learn.

When we finally made it downstairs, Edward and Masen were running around getting everything ready while Carlisle and Jasper's father waited out in the backyard with him - trying to keep him from running, Masen joked.

Once Edward and I finally managed a couple of minutes together, I wrapped my arms around his waist, admiring how absolutely breathtaking he looked. Edward didn't need the tailored wardrobe that Papa Phil and Peter possessed to make him look tall, strong and handsome. But when he was in a suit, it was awe-inspiring.

Nevertheless, I was surprised to see the dark circles that rung his eyes, and I frowned as I took in the way the edges of his mouth were turned down at the corners, giving him a rather somber and out-of-place expression on the day of his sister's wedding.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No, no," he assured me through a rather tight smile, his knuckles grazing my shoulders back and forth. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep."

"Lots of partying at Jasper's last night?" I assumed with a raised brow.

He chuckled, but there was a hollow ring to it. "I suppose."

When it was time for him to go stand with Jasper and for us to come out and make our grand entrance, we parted.

Despite the somber sky, it turned out to be a beautiful ceremony. Jasper looked handsome, proud and happy standing there waiting for Alice. And as we took our places and the reverend spoke of love and unions, I pictured the beautiful children they'd have, their bright future together. I basked in the joy radiating off of everyone, like a flower absorbing the sun through osmosis.

The clouds did open up halfway through the vows, sending large, prickly drops to camouflage everyone's tears. Throughout the drizzle, Edward and I exchanged amorous looks much as we had last year during Rose and Masen's wedding; except now, we were openly in love. And as I gazed at him and he gazed at me, I knew we were thinking the same thing: hopefully someday soon, it would be us standing before the reverend.

The actual deluge Alice predicted remained at bay right up until the reverend said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife." Then everyone yelled at Jasper to get on with it and kiss his new bride already so we could get the heck out of the rain, and Jasper proceeded to put on quite a dramatic display. He dipped Alice low and planted a big, fat kiss on her mouth before literally sweeping her off her feet and running towards the house with her in his arms. The limp in his gait barely slowed him. And before we could get absolutely drenched, Edward grabbed my hand, and we followed them inside.

Now this celebration turned out to be a lot more crowded than Masen and Rose's outdoor wedding the year before. The band was forced to set up against a wall in the living room, and while they got ready, we mingled practically on top of one another. But no one complained because it was a wedding: a joyful occasion.

I'd seen Peter, Mother and Papa Phil arrive right as the ceremony was beginning, taking their seats quietly in the back. A quick glance at Mother had shown me that she was in one of her moods, and so I'd hastily glanced away, refusing to let her ruin this day. Afterwards, busy and entertained as we were, Edward hadn't paid Peter any mind, even in the cramped conditions in which we now found ourselves - a fact for which I'd quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

And so we ate and celebrated with fried chicken, jellied chicken, and corn on the cob, cabbage salad, egg salad, sweet pickles, and green olives. For dessert, we had apple pie, chocolate muffins, fresh apricots, and Esme's wonderful Graham Cracker Vanilla Cake with fresh, sugar frosting - Alice's favorite.

"You'll have to tell me what your favorite cake is for when it's your turn," Esme smiled quietly as I helped her arrange the sugar flowers around the cake and situate the tiny bride and groom at the very top.

"Edward and I…we both prefer chocolate cake."

She held my gaze tenderly. "Then chocolate cake it'll be."

Her words, as well as the open, unconditional manner in which she'd always shown her approval of me, warmed me all over.

We cut the cake and took more wedding pictures, and when it was time for dessert, I was so full from the delicious meal that I only managed to have a thin sliver of cake.

Had I known that day would be the last time I'd be having that cake for a very long time, I would've had a bigger piece.

Afterwards, everyone danced in every room available - living room, kitchen, hallways, all of us packed so tightly that elbows and knees bumped one another as we swung around. The fact that one of his legs was slightly shorter than the other did nothing to affect Jasper's rhythm, and Alice joined her new husband happily. She danced and threw her head back and laughed and laughed, warm and happy indoors while the storm raged outside.

It was glorious, and I was so glad I'd been wrong.

Yet had we known that for so many in attendance, it would be one of the last of such celebrations, we may have spilled out into the outdoors, prolonged the celebration, done anything and everything to keep it all going regardless of the weather.

As for Edward, once we found a minute to catch our breaths, he held me close to him on the tight dance floor, swaying me from side to side, no longer having to hide the love gleaming in his eyes or the way his arms encircled my waist possessively. I was his, as I was always meant to be, and as the orchestra began playing one of my most recent favorites, I mouthed the words to him.

"_When a girl meets a boy, life can be a joy._

_But the note they end on will depend…_

He held my gaze, smiling pensively, and once more, I wondered what had him so wistful this afternoon.

"Edward, what's-"

"Edward, can you come give us a hand folding up some of these chairs and stacking them away so that we can make room for the toasts?" Esme called from the kitchen.

"Oh shoot!" I exclaimed. "I think we left the basket with the wedding favors outside on the buffet table, and the guests will start leaving soon!"

Glancing through the windows to the outside world, I could see that the late, afternoon light had been mutely filtered into a kaleidoscope of grays by the monsoon that had slowly morphed into just a plain old-fashioned, Washington shower.

"Edward!" Esme called again.

"Go help your mom," I said, disentangling myself from Edward's arms. "I'll be right in."

"Try not to get that pretty dress too wet," he said, pulling me in for a quick kiss. "I'm sure Mama's not done with pictures yet."

"I'll try," I chuckled.

I held up the hem of my pale, yellow dress as I trampled through the muddy ground, grateful that the rain seemed to be at least slowing. But when I saw that the basket full of wedding favors had gotten knocked off the table by the storm, I groaned loudly. Small, white cardboard boxes filled with delicate, little glass bells now lay scattered all over the wet, mucky grass.

Sucking my teeth, I knelt carefully and picked up a box, wiping it off with my fingers before placing it back in the basket. Then I wiped off another one while my heels slowly sank into the dirt like quicksand. When I realized I no longer felt any drops on my head or back, I thought for a second that the rain had finally ended.

Until a pair of shiny, expensive black oxfords suddenly stood before me, and I looked up at a grinning Peter, holding a wide, black umbrella over us.

Without a word, he squatted across from me while I watched the heavy mud ooze over his shoes like lava over volcanic rocks. He began picking up the once-white boxes, handing them to me so that I could return them to the basket.

"Despite the weather, it was a nice ceremony," he pointed out.

"Yes, it was," I agreed, keeping my eyes on the task at hand. Most of the boxes were soaked through, and a few sounded suspiciously like a newborn's rattle. "They'll be very happy."

"I suppose." He paused, and I felt his eyes on me. "You look extremely beautiful today, Bella. I was watching you dance and remembering that summer we danced together at your fourteenth birthday. For a short while there, I actually thought you might be starting to favor me."

I picked up the last box and carefully set it inside the basket. "Thanks for your help, Peter. Excuse me."

Before I could get to my feet, he grabbed my arm.

"Peter, this really needs to stop," I said as I pulled away. "Edward will come looking for me and-"

"And what? Are you not allowed to speak to me now?"

A few strands of his usually carefully combed back hair hung over his forehead, giving him an innocent, boyish look that contrasted with the cocky, amused expression on his face.

I shook my head. "As I've told you, Edward isn't like that. He doesn't forbid me from talking to anyone, but you know I'm with him, yet you insist on pursuing me."

"I do insist, don't I?" he admitted boldly.

My ensuing laughter was due more to shock than amusement. "Peter Vanderneck, we've been friends since we were kids, and I _know_ what you're like. You're a spoiled brat," I said, which made him laugh, "and I know what you see, and I assure you, I'm _not_ Mother."

"Why do you assume I want someone like your mother?" he questioned. "Because of my appearance? Because I like nice things? Correct me if I'm wrong, Isabella, but you look every bit the wealthy, American heiress as well."

"And you want to share in that wealth, don't you?" I grinned.

"Is that what you think that this is about?" he asked, raising a brow.

I crossed my arms against my chest. "Are you going to try to tell me it's not?"

"Isabella, at the risk of sounding _immodest_," he grinned, "there are probably half a dozen heiresses on the east coast alone that I could pursue with what would probably be quicker results than I'm getting here. Now it's no secret that my parents and your mother have been conspiring since we were kids, but what they don't seem to realize is that their backwards, outmoded ways of thinking are all but extinct; we're entering a new era where old names and standing mean nothing. A man has to make his own mark on the world, and no, I'm not going to kneel here," he smiled bemusedly, "and tell you that I don't care a lick that you'll be a very wealthy young woman someday. But I've got enough of my own money for now, along with a bright future that should assure me more of that money. I don't _need_ to marry an heiress."

"It doesn't matter either way, Peter," I shook my head. "_I love Edward_. That's not going to change regardless of what you want or don't want."

He chuckled lightly and pulled his eyes away from me, scanning the wet horizon. A sliver of sun was now peeking through the clouds, shining its bright rays over the green and brown world before us as if heralding in a new day.

"Just a few minutes ago, it was pouring, and now…" He shuttered the umbrella and brought his eyes back to mine. "Things can _always_ change, Isabella. Circumstances change every day, sometimes from one minute to the next. Besides, you're still young."

"I really hate it when people say that," I hissed, "as if I'm being rebellious as Mother says, or as if as I get older, my heart will change in any way. I'm not a tempestuous storm, Peter."

He laughed. "You _are_ still young though, and perhaps it's not rebellion, perhaps it's more of a…youthful fancy. As I told you last spring, I really do believe that you and I make more sense than do you and he. You may have been born in his class, but you were raised in mine. You don't fit in here, Isabella."

It was the same thing Edward tended to tell me, but the difference was, he and I knew very well where I fit, and as long as we were together, nothing else mattered.

I shook my head and tried to get up once more.

But again, Peter stopped me.

"Stop," I said firmly, shaking him off and getting to my feet, annoyed at the way my heels sank into the mud and made me appear even smaller when he stood before me.

"_I love Edward_. Now I realize it may be a difficult concept for you to grasp-"

"Do you really think I don't understand the concept of love?" he asked much more soberly. "Stop for one second, Isabella, and see me through _your_ eyes, not through Edward's. Is it so hard to conceive that perhaps _I_ was waiting for you to grow up as well?" His blue eyes held mine intently.

But I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Peter. Even if that's true, there's just no chance-"

"Until you actually carry his last name, I still have a chance." And despite the words, there was no trace of arrogance in his tone or in his features.

"Peter-"

"Get away from her."

The wet grass crunched quietly as Edward's footsteps closed in, and every atom in my body froze.

"We were just talking," Peter said. "She is still allowed to talk, isn't she?"

"You have no sense of honor or respect," Edward hissed, standing next to me as he faced Peter, "continuously chasing a girl you know to be taken."

"I know honor and respect, Edward," Peter countered, "but as I said, she's not carrying your last name yet, and I highly doubt you'll ever be able to worm your way into _that_."

"_I_ worm my way?" Edward asked incredulously, digging his thumb into his own chest. "You've practically been handed every opportunity to court her on a silver platter, yet she still doesn't want you! Get that through your thick skull!" he growled.

"That's because you're all she knows," Peter continued. "She should know that there are other options out there."

"Peter," I said, holding on to Edward's arm with both hands, "I've _already_ chosen Edward."

Peter shook his head. "Since we were kids, he's kept you close like his own personal, little possession - except when he wanted to try something new, of course," he sneered. "Do you think he didn't know exactly what he was doing all along, always treating you like the little girl and making himself the big, tough guy you couldn't help but look up to? What's he going to do now, forbid us from being friends?"

Beside me, I could feel Edward bristle with fury. He took a couple of steps closer to Peter. I looked around and saw that the rain's end had brought with it more than just a sliver of sun spilling through the clouds, but also wandering guests and curious eyes.

"I never have and never will forbid Bella from doing anything she wants."

"But you did try to forbid _me_ once," Peter accused, "or have you forgotten?"

"No," Edward scowled, taking yet another step closer to Peter, "I haven't forgotten. Have _you_ forgotten why?" he asked, teeth clenched together so tightly his mouth barely moved.

Like busy, little ants from a molehill, more guests poured out of the house, and my heart pounded nervously as I heard their quiet murmurs all around us.

Peter held Edward's glare unflinchingly. "Oh, come on. I was a stupid, thirteen year old kid! Do you really think I knew what the hell I was saying? Should we talk about what you've done to her much more recently? Parading Jessica around her when you _knew_ you were breaking her heart, laughing at her when-"

"I did _not_ laugh at her!" Edward snarled.

"Please stop, both of you," I hissed anxiously as the guests began circling us. "This is Alice's wedding."

"You of all people can't hold something stupid I may have said as a young boy against me, something that never even reached her ears, not after all the ways you've hurt her!"

"I can, and I will," Edward spat. "Now get away from her!" he commanded and shoved Peter backwards.

Everyone gasped as Peter stumbled off-balance, and for a few seconds, as we all looked on, his feet slipped and sled over the sludgy earth before he managed to dig his once-shiny heels in and keep from landing bottom-first.

And the entire time, my heart lurched in my chest.

Peter recovered, and with flaring eyes, stalked right back up to Edward.

"What are you going to do, Edward, hit me again? Yes, you'll win that, but what are you afraid of, that if I keep talking she'll realize that what I'm saying may actually make sense?"

"Edward, please." I grabbed his arm, the basket of favors completely forgotten at my side. "Let's just go back inside." But Edward wouldn't budge.

"What's going on, Guys?" Masen asked. At some point, he'd come to stand next to us. Neither man answered, both too busy glaring at one another.

Papa Phil was behind him. "Alright, this ends here and now," he said quietly.

"Come on, Boys," Jasper said, strolling easily towards us. He was grinning, but I could see the nervous tension behind his eyes. "We're here to enjoy good company, good food, and good drink," he joked, "and to toast to my beautiful, new wife."

"Here, here," Papa Phil said. He looked around at the crowd and held up his champagne flute. Hesitantly, everyone else followed suit. "Now let's go back inside and finish celebrating!" He began to walk away and then quickly leaned into Masen. "Bring them in," he instructed. "I'll take care of the crowd."

"Sounds like a good idea, Sir," Peter agreed. "We'll be right in."

Edward snorted. "Better wipe that brown off your nose before you go in and stink up the house." And with a sneer of disgust, he tore his eyes away from Peter and looked at Jasper.

"I'm really sorry, Jasper."

And then he took my hand, and I let go of the breath I'd been holding.

But before we walked away, he quickly turned back and leaned into Peter's shoulder, talking so low that only those of us nearest - Jasper, Masen and I, could hear him.

"You want to lick boots and prove you're the better man, Rich Boy? Go right on ahead. You can say whatever you want, but Bella will _always_ be mine. And let me make this perfectly clear: if you ever telephone or visit her again without having received her consent first, I'm going to come find you and pummel you into the ground. You got that?" He pulled away, grinning and patting Peter's shoulder in a manner that probably looked conciliatory to any eyes still watching.

"I'd have to be pretty dense not to get that. But let me make something perfectly clear to you as well: Isabella isn't married to you just yet, and if you have any sense at all, you'll realize that her mother will _never_ allow that to happen."

For a few seconds, both men absolutely glowered at one another, but then Edward simply took my hand and turned us around.

"Edward, stop," I whispered because we were walking away from the house instead of towards it. It was only when my shoes caught in the mud, and I stumbled that he slowed and turned around.

Eyes clouded with fury met mine. He gripped my shoulders carefully yet firmly.

"Go back to the party," he said, his voice shaking though I could tell he was trying hard to rein in his temper. Before I could respond, he began walking away again.

"Where are you going?" I called out anxiously.

"I just…go back to the party, Bella," he said without turning around, raking a hand through his hair. "I'll be back in a little while."

And I simply stood there, watching him disappear behind the trees.

"That's a very nice scene he just caused at his own sister's wedding," Mother said. I hadn't even heard her approach. "Yet this is what you're choosing."

"This is all your doing," I said quietly, "for encouraging Peter."

"You're truly blinded by _him_, Isabella," Mother said, "if you've failed to see that Peter's interest in you goes way beyond any encouragement I may have given him. For God's sakes," she snorted, "at least open your eyes and see that you _do_ have other options that could give you both love _and_ a real standing in society."

"And how did that option work out for you, Mother?"

She said nothing, and in the middle of her silence, I picked up my dress and ran after Edward.

OOOOOOOOOO

He was underneath the large evergreen, leaning up against it with one foot planted against the trunk, his head down and his hands dug deep in his pockets.

I stood in front of him.

"So will this be our meeting spot after every wedding?"

He snorted, his head still down.

I moved in and leaned against his strong chest, lifting his head up with my thumb and forefinger.

"What is it, Edward?"

"Fucking Peter," he scowled.

My eyes widened because I'd never heard Edward use that word.

He sucked his teeth and fisted his hair. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Bella. I shouldn't have said that in front of you."

"Edward…don't let him get to you. Peter has been raised to talk the good talk."

"He's right, though. That's the hell of it."

"What do you mean he's right?" I frowned.

"No matter what your stepfather says or does," he shook his head, "your mother will _never_ accept this. She'll keep throwing Peter at you while I'm stuck here, thousands of miles away…"

"Edward, I love _you_, and she doesn't have to like it or accept it," I countered. "Papa Phil is on our side, and she'll never go against him because she doesn't want to be cut off. Next year, I'll be done with school, and-"

"And I'm supposed to what, just ruin your future, Bella? Cause this rift between you and your own mother, take you from every comfort and advantage you've had almost your entire life?"

"What are you saying? I don't care about any of that, Edward! You _know_ that!"

"That's easy to say now."

I stiffened and dropped my arms, pulling away from him, but he reached out and grabbed me.

"Don't do this, Edward. I am _not_ my mother!"

"This has nothing to do with you being your mother!"

"It has everything to do with that!" I contradicted heatedly. "I love you, Edward, not what loving you will get me or not!"

He swung me around suddenly, holding me up against the tree while his arms wrapped around my back to keep the bark from scratching me. And when his eyes bored into mine anxiously, I realized he was shaking.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm sorry. Just…just swear to me, swear that you'll always be mine," he breathed desperately. "Swear it."

"Edward, what's wrong? You're frightening me, my love." I cradled his face. "You've been acting strangely all day."

He swallowed thickly, his expression pained. "It's not just Peter and your mother," he shook his head. "I…I had a dream last night - a nightmare. It was the worst…" His voice broke.

I cradled his cheek, wonderfully warm and rough with the evening's stubble. "My love, it was just a dream…"

"It was dark," he blurted shakily, as if now that he'd confessed, he just had to get it out, "and you had your back to me. I kept reaching for you, but you were always just out of reach. And when I was finally able to turn you around, I couldn't see you – or rather…" He shut his eyes tightly. "I could see you, I just couldn't…Bella, I didn't know who you were…" He trailed off and opened his eyes, and when they met mine, they were full of terror. "Jesus, Bella, I know it makes no sense, but it terrified the hell out of me."

Lifting myself up on my tiptoes, I placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

"My love, it was just a dream," I repeated. "I'm here."

"Sometimes I feel as if…" he choked, "as if no matter what I do, whether I take you and run with you right now, or whether we wait and do things right, I'm going to lose you. We're going to lose each other." He shivered, and when I wrapped myself around him, he held on to me for dear life.

I slid my hands around his shoulders and massaged the nape of his neck, feeling how stiff and tense he really was.

"Edward, we're the only ones that could make that happen, and if neither of us is willing to lose the other, then what could possibly tear us apart?"

He rested his forehead against mine, eyes wide and searching. "I'm afraid," he whispered, his soul bared open to me. "I've never been afraid of much, Bella, but the thought of losing you, of not being able to hold you and call you mine…it's the only thing…it's the only thing that's unbearable."

"We'll never lose each other, Edward," I promised him. "No matter what. All obstacles are out of our way now," I smiled, "and nothing will ever keep us apart."

I wanted to melt myself into him, to possess him and allow him to possess me; anything to prove to him that I'd always be his. And no matter how tightly I held him, I couldn't seem to get close enough.

"Promise me," he growled roughly, searching for my mouth. "Promise," he repeated, his tongue fighting its way in between my lips so that all I could do was moan in response at the sweetness of his taste. His fingers burrowed deep into my hips, tinged with an anguished need as if he wanted to assure himself that I was really there, that I was warm flesh and blood and not the ethereal, distorted vapory mist from his dream, dissolving like a nebulous mountain fog with the wave of a hand.

His mouth skimmed across my chin, down to my neck, breath warm against my skin. His scent, heady and musky, mixed with the scent of rain-soaked leaves and grass.

"Promise."

"I promise," I murmured, my arms wound solidly around his neck. "I promise you, Edward. I'm yours – always."

##########

I suppose I've fallen into a long lapse of silence.

When I refocus, my daughter is kneeling before me, looking up at me through anxious, blue eyes.

"Where did you go, Mama?" she murmurs.

It's a question that's asked of me more and more lately when my prolonged silences take me to places I haven't been in a while, places that I sometimes remember and sometimes…sometimes places as nebulous and vapory as that dream Edward had on that summer night almost three quarters of a century ago. Sometimes, when I return from my absences, her expression makes my old heart clench painfully; a child with a full life and worries of her own should never be burdened so by her mother's old mind.

"Don't worry, Darling. I was with _him_," I smile.

##########

Other than for those couple of rocky spots, the rest of that summer went wonderfully. But it soon came to an end, as wonderful summers tend to do. For so many, this would be the last wonderful summer for a long, long time. By the time the next wonderful summer finally rolled around, an entire generation had lost so much. Some things they'd eventually be able to recover, while some…some would be lost forever.

_And on the night before I boarded the Union Builder for the ride back East, Edward and I lay over a blanket by the river saying goodbye, unaware that the next time we saw one another, our entire world would have been turned on its axis._

_Fueled by a desperation magnified by a belief that we'd be separated for months, Edward's hands and mouth explored places they hadn't dared explore before. The bright moon silhouetted his copper hair while his warm mouth tenderly sucked on the exposed skin on the top swell of my breasts. His fingers inched higher upwards, pushing aside my skirt and stroking my bare thighs, and I arched my back, gazing up at the magnificent stars. _

_This time, when he settled himself over me, his hardness lined up perfectly with the space between my legs, and he grunted while I fisted hair that had grown longer over the warm, summer weeks, reminding me of when we were children, and I believed him to be my own, personal Tarzan._

_And when he began rocking against me, that glowing, coiling tingling sensation arose from the tips of my toes and settled itself deep between my thighs, and I knew what I wanted. I knew it perfectly._

"_Tell me to stop, Bella," he breathed, his moist lips at the valley between my breasts, but there was no conviction behind the plea. "Please tell me to stop." _

"_Please," I whispered, "Please, Edward, don't stop…please…don't…"_

_His mouth found mine, and he slipped his tongue inside, kissing me to the same rhythm he moved._

"_How can I stop when you make me feel so much?" he murmured against my mouth. "When I love you…so much…"_

"_Just let yourself feel…" I begged him while the budding sensation multiplied. "Let yourself love…"_

_He crashed his mouth to mine once more, and I gasped when I felt his warm fingers brush behind my leg and hitch it up. He thrust once, twice and with a pained groan, as if it were taking the effort of Hercules, he set my leg down again and pulled away from me, and I was left staring up at a clouded sky that had suddenly lost its stars._

_Bewildered, my chest heaved erratically up and down._

_After a few seconds, Edward hovered over me again, this time carefully supporting his weight on his forearms. He peppered soft, tender kisses on my face while adjusting my dress over my chest and legs. Then he pulled me up and settled me sideways over his lap. _

"_I'm sorry," he whispered._

_I couldn't answer right away._

"_You get…very hard," I finally managed to say, grateful for the darkness. _

"_Yes," he responded after a few moments, his voice low. "Yes, I suppose I do."_

"_Do you want me, Edward?"_

"_Jesus, Bella," he said shakily. "I ache for you morning, noon and night."_

_I rose on my knees and straddled him, cradling his face. "Edward…I'll give you anything that's mine to give. Anything…"_

_He held my gaze and slowly shook his head, lifting me and adjusting me sideways once more. Gently, he pushed my head over his chest where I could hear the erratic beat of his heart. _

"_I'll do right by you, Bella. We'll do this right. When you're done with school next year, we'll marry and have a proper honeymoon, and I'll make you mine on a warm, soft bed, like you deserve. And we'll finish college while we live together as husband and wife, and I'll make love to you every morning and night; I swear it."_

_My heart soared at the beautiful picture he painted. I looked up at him, at wondrous evergreen eyes that would always own me. _

"_Is that a proposal?"_

_He smiled softly, shaking his head. "When I propose, I'll do that right as well. I'm not taking shortcuts with you, Bella. You'll be getting a proper ring, and I'll be on my knees."_

"_And I'll say yes, Edward," I breathed excitedly. "It'll be perfect. We'll have the most beautiful, perfect life, and we'll be together always."_

"_Always," he echoed._

##########

"In late July 1941, the U.S., in support of its allies, issued an oil embargo against all _aggressors_ and enemies to world peace. This embargo threatened to completely destroy the Japanese Empire's military campaign against China, as well as its interior economy. And in August of that year, FDR sent fighter planes to the USSR, in support of its campaign against the Nazis, who now had the Soviet city of Leningrad surrounded and would soon march onto Moscow.

"That must've pissed off the axis powers," Olivia points out. "Especially since the U.S. wasn't even in the war yet."

"Well," I smile, "they may not have been _officially_ in the war yet, but in that same month, FDR and Churchill met in Newfoundland to discuss post-war goals for the world at large. Many of these goals were aimed at giving colonies currently under imperial rule self-autonomy after the war."

"But didn't the British Empire have a bunch of colonies back then?" Skye questions.

"Yes," I nod. "They did. And though that agreement would greatly diminish their Empire as well, by that point, Churchill was so desperate for U.S. involvement in the war that he readily agreed."

"That agreement became known as the Atlantic Charter," Isabella adds. "It was the inspiration for many of the international agreements that have shaped today's world."

"Yes, and at the time, the axis powers took that agreement as further proof that whether _officially_ in the war or not, the U.S. had committed itself to being a dangerous enemy."

With a deep sigh, I allow my old eyes to scan the horizon while my memory takes me to a day, to a horrible, infamous day almost three quarters of a century in the past.

"And in less than a handful of months, on a small, American island in the Pacific, over 2,500 young, innocent souls stationed there would give their lives to officially commit us to the war, and our world…_my_ world would never be the same."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 32: How About You? (1941) by Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney**

**(The song actually didn't premiere until Nov., 1941, but I thought it would fit nicely here, so I changed a little bit of history). :)**

"_**When a girl meets a boy, life can be a joy…  
**__**But the note they end on will depend on little pleasures they will share.  
**__**So let us compare."  
**_"_**I like Jack Benny's jokes."  
**_"_**To a degree."  
**_"_**I love the common folks."  
**_"_**That includes me."  
**_"_**I like to window shop on Fifth Avenue."  
**_"_**I like banana splits, late suppers at the Ritz, how 'bout you?"**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	32. Chapter 31 - Letters from the Fall, 1941

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. I truly appreciate and enjoy reading them. :) A few of you had some questions that I'm not ignoring, I just haven't had a chance to get back to. But I will be getting back to you as soon as I can.**

**I'm on vacation! Please read the A/N at the end for info on this week's updates!**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 31 – Letters from the Fall of 1941**

**September 6, 1941**

My Dearest Edward:

I'm writing this letter from the porch of my dad's house. The sun is setting behind the small, Chicago trees in the neighborhood, so different from those grand trees in Washington, especially from the majestic tree under which we swing and kiss and love each other. I love you as much when I'm here as I do when I'm there; I need you to know that.

Dad is well. He's upset, as most of us are, about the German sub attack on the _USS Greer_ a couple of days ago. He and Uncle Billy worry for Jacob, though the attack was in Atlantic waters while Jacob is in the Pacific. I confess I worry for him as well, and I know you won't begrudge me my concern for a boy with whom I grew up and whom, despite mistakes I may have made one summer, I've always loved as a brother.

I spoke to Dad about you and about Jacob. He was admittedly surprised and a bit confused since he'd noticed that the relationship between Jacob and I had changed a couple of summers ago and had assumed that when Jacob returned this winter, he would ask for permission to court me. Uncle Billy seems to assume the same thing. He looks at me so expectantly, but Dad has told me to leave that to Jacob to fix. Dad says he would definitely like to meet you come December, if you can still come.

I'm so sorry, Edward. I simply didn't want to hurt anyone, and instead, I've made such a mess of things.

I miss you so much. Our days together already feel so long ago. Alice's wedding feels like it was half a year ago instead of two months ago. Yet I remember every second with you. I remember the feel of your touch and the scent of your hair like soap and water when it's freshly washed. When we've been lying in the grass, it picks up a sweet, earthy scent that I adore. I even love the way it smells when you get home from the mill, soap mixed with dust and wood.

I remember our perfect day by the river, when we were all together. Even Sandy forgot her age and jumped in and out of that water as if she were still a puppy.

That day is still my heaven.

**September 13, 1941**

My beautiful Bella:

Happy 17th Birthday, Sweetheart.

I'll be calling you later today after classes are done, and I can sneak out to the drug store, but I wanted to write you this letter first thing in the morning.

I hope you've received your present. It's not much, but I thought of you as soon as I saw it. Brown and gold just like your eyes, and a young woman about to finish high school needs a nice pen – at least that's what the salesman at the store told me.

Everyone back home is doing well. Mama and Pop sent their love last I spoke to them. I've only been back here about a week, but classes already seem as if they're going to be harder this year. Or maybe I'm just having a harder time focusing with you so far away. Sometimes I just don't know how much longer I'll be able to bear this, having to concentrate on mathematical equations and chemistry reactions when all I can think of is the taste of your warm skin under my lips, the sweetness of your neck, the softness of your mouth.

Sweetheart, I hate the melancholic tone of your letters. Please don't apologize for the issue with Jacob. We'll work it out, and of course I understand your concern. He's been your friend since childhood, and I would never expect you not to worry for him. I understand your father's concerns as well, and I simply hope that he can see past his history with Jacob enough to see how much I treasure you. I feel like I'm always trying to prove myself and my love for you, and I don't blame anyone. You're precious, and those around you need to make sure you're loved completely. But Bella, no one could ever love you as I do.

**October 15, 1941**

My Dearest Edward:

Have I told you yet that everyone is jealous of my beautiful pen? It catches everyone's eyes as soon as I pull it out. Even Tanya has complimented me on it, saying she wishes her new beau would stop buying her so many jewels that she can easily buy herself, and simply get her something "different."

Yes, she has a new beau: Roger Denali. She tells me his surname was shortened from something Russian decades ago when his family first arrived. Last night, she was very upset because Roger has been angry over the Germans surrounding Moscow. This is the girl whom last I knew couldn't find the USSR on a map if it had the word "_Russia_" written on it in big, bold letters.

I spent last weekend with Mother, in New York City. She had our driver pick me up on Friday evening. Papa Phil was in Washington D.C. on business, so it was just the two of us for the weekend.

On Saturday, we took a long drive around the city, up and down the ornate mansions of Fifth Avenue with their brick-and-limestone façades and ornate gates that have been standing since the mid-1800s at least. Mother went on and on about the magnificence of these old homes, lamenting the fact that we "nouveau riche" are relegated to Riverside Drive on the West Side while "old money" homes take up a square block each on the East Side. With all her breast-beating, she may have failed to note that only a handful of these massive mansions remain. Peter was right about one thing last summer: the grand residences of the Vanderbilts, the opulent, stone piles of the Fricks, and the fancy home of the Vanderneck's are becoming a thing of the past.

And before you ask, no, Peter was NOT part of this excursion, nor of the rest of the weekend. I promise you I would tell you otherwise. I've learned my lesson on that, and it seems that perhaps, Peter has as well.

Afterwards, we had lunch at a new French restaurant Mother kept raving about. It's called _Le Pavillon_. It seems that the restaurant owner is a French national, Henri Soulé I believe is his name, who came to New York to run the restaurant in the French pavilion of the World's Fair. Once the fair closed last year, Mr. Soulé decided he wouldn't go back to a German-occupied France and instead opened up _Le Pavillon_. Based on the number of patrons there on Saturday despite the outrageous prices, I'd say it was a wise decision.

We closed off the weekend with a Sunday matinee on Broadway, where we saw a new musical called "Let's Face It!" It was about three Long Island wives intent on making their philandering husbands jealous by inviting three young, army recruits for supper while their husbands are out.

As for Mother, I'll have you know she didn't even mention Peter's name once all weekend – though I know exactly what she was trying to do, Edward. She seems to believe me blind and stupid. What she doesn't seem to understand is that I would've traded a thousand such weekends for one hour with you by the river or under our evergreen tree, doing nothing but talking and laughing.

And speaking of home, I spoke to Alice yesterday. She told me all about her job at the five and dime and how she's meeting new people and getting to read the store magazines before anyone else even buys them. I've told her to be careful before she gets fired two months into the job. I confess I was concerned about her marrying, Edward. Your sister is so much like you in many ways, and she craves adventure as you do. But she sounds very content in her new life, and I'm truly happy for her and Jasper.

She also told me about Jasper's new side-job with a dog named Duke - a pup given to him by the Sheriff's office. Apparently, he's getting paid to train him? Personally, it would break my heart to train a dog only to give him up to someone else, but I suppose word has gotten around that Jasper is the best at training canines. I just hope poor Sandy and Gus don't get too attached to Duke.

I miss you and love you so much.

**October 29, 1941**

My beautiful Bella:

I just took an exam in my Industrial Science class, and I believe I did well, though as I studied late into the night, it was images of those unfortunate sailors on the _USS Kearney_ that kept clouding my brain. Those poor guys probably never even saw that torpedo coming for them until it was too late. Eleven American sailors dead, and the German's excuse is that the _Kearney_ was protecting a British convoy? What the hell is Congress waiting for? This is ridiculous. At least FDR has ordered the U.S. Navy to shoot on sight if any of our ships or convoys are threatened.

I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm probably upsetting you, but I just need to vent. Eleven sailors killed. What did the Navy tell their parents and loved ones: 'We're sorry, but we can't retaliate because we're neutral?' A sorry excuse if there ever was one.

Bella, when I get like this, you're the only one that can calm me. Your touch and your voice soothe me in ways nothing else can ever possibly. Yet sometimes I think that when we're this far away from one another, hearing your voice over a telephone only agitates me more.

That doesn't mean I don't want to hear your voice. It simply means I ache for you in ways I can't even describe.

I don't even know if I'm making any sense. As you know, expressing myself with words has never been my strong point.

Bella, I've been thinking about the weekend you spent alone with your mother a couple of weeks back, and though by your words, it sounds as if you were more frustrated than anything, I'm really glad you spent time together. The rift that our relationship has caused between you and your mother weighs on me. I wish there was some way for me to make her understand that no one could ever love her daughter as I love you.

And yes, I see what she was trying to do as well. It sounds like it was a wonderful weekend, Bella, and if you ever decide that that's indeed the life that would make you happy, please let me know right away. You deserve the best, Bella, and I can't help thinking sometimes that that's exactly what I'm taking you away from.

I went home last weekend. Everyone is fine. Sandy and Gus both miss you. Sandy sees me coming and runs behind me as if searching for someone. I guess she's realized you're my other half, but she doesn't realize my other half is currently on the other side of the country. As for her and Gus not getting too attached to Duke, I don't think you need to worry about that. Jasper keeps them separated. He's taking this job very seriously.

I telephoned your stepfather yesterday about coming to see you in December. I'd like to pick you up from Miss Tudor's on your final day of classes and then escort you to Chicago for the holidays – if both your father and stepfather are okay with that. Philip says he will speak to your father and see if he's amenable to that plan. I'm to call him back at the end of the week.

Either way, with or without their approval, I'll be coming to see you soon, Sweetheart. I'm going crazy without you.

**November 4, 1941**

My dearest Edward:

Papa Phil has informed me that he spoke to you and has let you know that he and Charlie have approved your coming to pick me up to escort me to Chicago next month. He was a bit busy so he couldn't give me all the particulars, but he said he'd telephone me soon and would also speak to my head mistress to make sure there are no problems. Apparently, Papa is headed to Washington, D.C. again for another meeting with the President. I find myself wondering what all those meetings are about. And speaking of FDR, with the latest U-Boat attack, I find myself agreeing with you, Edward. How much longer can we hold off?

Edward, I've heard back from Jacob. As I write you this, I feel so weighed down by guilt and regret for what I've done to you both. Though the tone of his letter wasn't one of bitterness, I know him well enough to know he's upset. He says he doesn't know what he did wrong.

How do I tell him that he did nothing wrong? He just isn't you. Would that make it better or worse? Do I remain silent and wait for his return to explain things in person with you at my side? Either way, I'm a coward who should've been honest over a year ago when you first kissed me under that evergreen tree, and I knew in that moment that my heart had always been and would always be yours.

I should've been honest before that.

He also says he would like to speak with you, man to man, next month when he returns.

I'm so sorry, My Love, so, so sorry. I've created such a fine mess for all those involved, but no matter what, no matter who I hurt, it's you I can't live without.

**November 19, 1941**

My dearest Edward:

I'm sure you know already.

Edward, I'm so happy. In the middle of my worries about what I've done to you and Jacob, I heard from Rose. The baby is due in early August she tells me. She's over the moon, and I can only imagine how Masen feels. Please give him my love and congratulations. I remember the first time I met all of you, and he held her hand so sweetly, and now they're having a child. You're going to be an uncle, and hopefully someday, I'll be the child's aunt.

It's so strange, Edward. Though it won't be my child, I feel so blessed right now as if somehow, I've been personally given this gift, this reminder of what's really important. There's so much for which to be thankful, Edward, that's what Rose's letter reminded me. Even in the midst of a world that seems to be going more and more insane with each passing day, there's always so much for which to be thankful.

**November 15, 1941**

My beautiful Bella:

I'm so sorry for how things have worked out with Jacob. Sweetheart, I should've never insisted you write him. It was my pride and my desire for the world to know that you were mine. But as long as you and I knew, that should've been enough for me. We could've told him together next month. I'm so sorry. Please don't blame yourself when I'm the one who's caused this, Bella, not you. Never you.

But I swear to you, Bella, I'll be the man you need me to be. I'll be honest with Jacob when I meet him. I'll assure him of my love for you. I'll assure him that I'll always take care of you and that I'd give up my very life for you. And I swear to you, Sweetheart, though you may be concerned because of the way I've acted with Peter in the past, I won't be like that with Jacob. It's an entirely different situation from Peter. Peter is a selfish, arrogant bastard, while from everything I've heard of Jacob, he's an honest, caring and patriotic fellow. He just happened to fall for a girl I'll never give up.

Jacob will be okay though; I promise you that, Bella. This is how I know this: you were meant for me; therefore, you couldn't have been meant for Jacob. The right one for him must be out there somewhere. Hopefully, he'll find her someday.

I have good news, however, and I hope it lifts your spirits somewhat.

Masen is going to be a father.

I can hardly live with him, he's so happy. Mama has assured him that Rose is fine and healthy, and if all goes well, the child should be born around early August.

Bella, I look at Masen and I see a day when it'll be me feeling what he feels right now: the joy of knowing he's created a life with the girl he loves more than anything in this entire world. I picture a day when it'll be my child inside you. You're the only girl I could ever see as the mother of my children. I'm the only man I could ever see as the father of yours.

The world is going crazy. The Nazis have had Moscow surrounded for months, and the stories we hear about how Jews in occupied territories are being treated are almost too inconceivable to be real. What's more, the United Kingdom has now increased their conscription age to fifty. FIFTY! Imagine fifty year old men fighting a war, Bella. War is meant for the young, not for men with old, aching bones.

Yet there's still good. Whenever I think of you, I know this without a shadow of a doubt. A world where someone like you can exist - beautiful, sweet, honest, forgiving and always full of so much hope - can't be all bad. A world where you and I will someday be married and make our own babies has to have some hope left.

Where there is you, there is still good.

**November 28, 1941**

My dearest Edward:

In just under three weeks, you and I will be together again.

It's strange, but everything that's happened between late August and the day when I finally lay eyes on you begins to fade from my mind until all I have room to fill it with are thoughts of our reunion.

Papa Phil has spoken to the Head Mistress, and you'll be allowed to pick me up on the morning of December 20. Papa Phil has also made reservations for us on the _21__st__ Century Limited_; though, of course, we'll have separate accommodations for the one night before we arrive in Chicago.

It's less than three weeks, My Love, until I can be in your arms again. You have no idea how anxious I am to be with you, to introduce you to my father, and even to introduce you to Jacob. My father tells me that Jacob is due home a couple of days before Christmas. Edward, I feel a renewed sense of hope; I'm sure now, as the day nears, that he'll understand.

A love like ours simply can't be denied.

**December 6****th**** 1941:**

My beautiful Bella:

I've spent this entire Saturday making all the final preparations for my trip east to see you. As I told you over the telephone, I'll be leaving on Monday, December 15 and arriving that Friday the 19th. The following morning, I'll pick you up from school for our trip to Chicago.

You're right, Sweetheart. Everything else does fade into the background. You and I will be together again, and that's all that matters…

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

****PLEASE READ****

**As you guys read this, I'm in the Bahamas on a week-long vacation with my hubby and kids. Therefore, I won't be able to update later this week. I'm hoping to resume updates the following Monday, but if I can't make that date, I should definitely update the following Thursday. Thank you!**

**This week's playlist song was a suggestion from thunnababy! At her suggestion, I listened to this song, and boy, does it fit Edward and Bella to a tee. Such a beautiful song, and so perfect here! So thanks so much thunnababy, for your suggestion!**

**AOI Playlist Song #33: Yours (1941) by Vera Lynn**

**Yours till the stars lose their glory  
****Yours till the birds fail to sing  
****Yours to the end of life's story  
****This pledge to your dear  
****I bring****  
**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Talk to you guys soon! I'll drink a Margarita or three on your behalf. ;)**


	33. Chapter 32 - One Lazy Sunday Morning

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. :)**

**And thanks so much to all of you who wished me a great time on my spring break vacation! The hubby, kiddies and I had a great time! We sat under the sun, relaxed, played, I drank my fair share of mojitos and margaritas on you guys' behalf…and now I'm back. :(**

**So let's get on with it, shall we?**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Ch. 18 One Lazy Sunday Morning**

##########

"Funny the things you remember."

My eyes are no longer focused on the trees or on the leaves or on the beauty of nature presently surrounding me, but rather on a red and white brick building many miles - and many years - away…yet preserved perfectly in my mind.

When a soft breeze whistles through the trees, whispering lightly through my long, white hair and murmuring voices from the past quietly in my ear, it brings me back to the here and now. The gentle breath whips up both brittle and young leaves alike, swaying them gently back and forth in the air, like a baby's cradle at the hands of Mother Nature.

"Mama?" Leah says softly. "Mama, maybe we should stop the story here."

I shake my head. "No, Leah, not yet."

She frowns. "Mama…Mama, I don't want you upsetting yourself today. Today is a happy day. It's a good day. It's the first time we'll all be together again since…well, it's been a few months and-"

"It _is_ a good day," I smile.

"Okay, Mama, you can finish your story," she says, thinking I can't hear the patronizing tone in her voice. "But maybe we should leave it until you've gotten a nice nap."

"Stop trying to make me nap!" I snap. "I'm ninety years old, not nine months old!"

"For the love of all that's holy, why do you have to finish it now?" she insists.

I hold my daughter's gaze. "Because I owe it to _him_. Because I owe it to all of them."

"Nana, are you sure you want to continue?"

Though Isabella shifts the tire swing back and forth with noticeable care, I'm grateful that her easy rhythm hasn't been broken by her mother's needless worry. "We all want to hear the rest, but only if you're okay with telling it." When she places a warm hand on my shoulder, conveying both her care and her understanding, I cover it with my own worn hand.

"Retelling my story…_our_ story…it's not easy, but…" I sigh, "it makes me feel more alive than I've felt in…a while."

"Can you tell us what happened that day, Nana?" Olivia asks in a whisper. "On December seventh, nineteen forty-one?"

"Where were you that day, Nana?" Skye adds in the same murmured tone.

They're old questions, but also questions I've heard people ask one another more recently, in relation to another infamous moment in time, to two towers that fell without warning.

_Where were you when the towers fell?_

_Where were you when Pearl was attacked?_

And as I imagine happens to most, the questions transport me to another place, to sights and scents from that iniquitous moment when I first realized that my world would never be the same, to sensory perceptions that will always be a reminder of the day when my innocence truly ended – the day our entire nation's innocence came to an abrupt and horrible end.

"Funny the things you remember," I repeat, "the memories that stay when everything else begins to fade away. I remember we'd been to Sunday services on Huguenot Street, in an old, red and white brick church where services were conducted in both Latin and French in honor of the French-speaking Protestants who settled New Paltz. I can't remember the name of the church though," I frown. "Afterwards, we returned to Miss Tudor's, where the school chef was preparing St. Louis ribs for lunch." I inhale deeply, but instead of green moss and moist bark, I smell the sweet, tangy scent of the chef's secret rub in the air around me. "I'd returned to my room to take off my white, lace gloves. You see, in those days, all young ladies wore white gloves to church, but I'd noticed a stain on the left glove, and I was trying to rub it off because those were my favorite pair of church gloves." I hold up one hand in front of me, gazing at it, yet no longer seeing brown liver spots, but instead white, pristine lace with an annoying smudge of dirt. "At that particular moment, I had no bigger concerns other than getting that stain off. I remember wishing many times afterwards that I could go back to that moment – to that final second in time when a miniscule, unimportant blemish was my biggest worry."

Olivia tilts her head sideways to the left, and Skye tilts hers to the right, yet they're both so obviously invested in my words. As they should be; after all, this is their history as much as mine.

"That was when I heard the screaming and yelling coming from the halls and…I remember the glove fluttering to the floor, like the leaves tend to do. And I went to the door, and…and…"

With a deep sigh, I look down at my lap. Clad in comfortable, stretchy blue jeans instead of the pastel blue dress I'd worn that day, thin and withered instead of firm and shapely, I'm once more reminded that I'm no longer in that school, no longer that confused and bewildered seventeen-year-old girl. The screams are now only in my mind. The passage of time has dulled them…somewhat.

"Mama…" There's a plea in Leah's voice. "Mama, you don't have to do this."

"It's okay, Mama," Isabella reassures her. "Nana's okay." She squeezes my shoulder, and by that one action, I know she knows; she understands why I _have_ to tell it.

"Go on, Nana."

Drawing in a deep breath, I bring my weak eyes back up to my audience.

"Perhaps…perhaps I should tell you what the copper-haired boy was doing that morning."

"You learned it from his journal?" Olivia asks.

I nod. "Yes. I learned it from his journal."

"Okay, Nana," Skye agrees gently.

##########

The time difference meant that he was still in bed having a lazy, Sunday morning, staring up at the ceiling, his mind vacillating between the very specific plans he'd been formulating for the next time he'd see his Bella in a couple of weeks, and memories from the previous summer.

Sighing, Edward turned on his side and stared through the window at the light drizzle falling over the cloudy Seattle streets.

He thought of that summer often, of her beautiful, golden eyes sparkling in the dim, Washington sun, of her body warmed by that same sun while they lay on a blanket by the river, of laughing with her by the radio, of kissing her under the evergreen-

"_You leave the Pennsylvania Station 'bout a quarter to four,_

_Read a magazine and then you're in Baltimore"_

Ever since finding out that he was going to be a dad, Masen had been in a never-ending state of bliss, singing and joking all over the place. At least he'd had the courtesy to go sing in the front parlor – if that's what that tiny room could be considered.

The brothers rented the two-room space from Mr. and Mrs. Baker, a couple in their late forties or so, who let out a few such apartments, mostly to young men attending the University of Washington in the area. Every floor had one shared bathroom as well as a shared, small kitchen. There was one telephone in the entire building, in the Baker's first floor apartment.

Now the Baker's didn't believe in payment after the fact. Rent was due on the first of the month, and whoever used their telephone had to arrive cash in hand, ready to pay before the telephone's mouthpiece left its cradle. Mrs. Baker kept a small notebook where she annotated the telephone exchange called, how long the call had lasted, and how much she'd been paid for the call. Needless to say, privacy while on the Baker's telephone was pretty much non-existent. What's more, if by some reason, the telephone bill received at the end of the month didn't match up to what had been pre-paid by the caller, that caller would have Mr. Baker banging on his door first thing in the morning.

Edward tended to find it easier to use the telephone at the drug store a few blocks down where he and Masen worked part-time six days a week. Marcus, the store owner, would simply subtract the price of the calls from Edward's paycheck.

Either way, with how darn expensive long-distance telephone calls were to make, it wasn't very often Edward had use for either telephone. He'd only spoken to Bella a couple of times since September, and his Mama and Pop once. Everything that wasn't urgent or an emergency was conveyed through letters.

He'd been saving up, you see - ever since Bella had become his girl, he'd been saving every nickel and dime possible. He'd been saving even before that if truth be told; ever since he'd accepted that his life would never be complete without her. And one of the few things he hadn't mentioned to her in any of the letters he'd written her over the past few months was…the ring.

The jeweler had assured him that the thin, white gold band was of good quality, if not very flashy, with only a whimsical pattern of lines circling around the middle, which Edward hoped Bella would like. Eventually, he wanted to have some sort of gemstone mounted on it, but he knew that was still a ways off. Instead, he'd had an inscription etched inside the band:

'_My true and loyal heart for yours. Always.'_

He'd be giving it to her on Christmas day and praying she'd accept it and grant him her hand. Just the thought of that moment made his heart clench and his forehead break out with thin bands of sweat. And if she said yes, they'd have any kind of wedding she wanted that following summer after she graduated high school: a backyard wedding like his brother and sister or a fancy affair in the city - if she so desired and if her mama didn't completely disown her.

That thought was almost enough to sour his mood.

But his mind quickly skipped Renee Dwyer, and even the wedding, and headed straight for the honeymoon. The destination didn't matter to him; all that mattered was that she'd finally be completely his and that the following September, she'd attend the University of Washington with him. It was co-ed, and it had a great veterinary program, and they'd live together as man and wife.

Masen's off-key singing grew louder. Under the sour notes he hit, Edward could vaguely make out the sound of their small radio, currently in the middle of announcing a sponsor advertisement.

"For the love of all that's holy, either turn off the radio or shut up!" Edward yelled. "It's Sunday morning!"

Masen responded by turning up the radio's volume – and singing even louder.

"_There's gonna be a certain party at the station_

_Satin and lace, I used to call funny face!"_

Edward raked a hand down his own face and turned on his other side. Then, ignoring the loud cacophony in the other room, he let his mind wander again…

##########

_To memories of how soft Bella's sweet, little breasts were, to the gentle sighs she'd released the night before she left when he'd pressed himself against her. His hand tightened around his hardened member when he closed his eyes and an image of Bella's beautiful body in her red and white swimsuit swam before his irises. He remembered the way she felt wrapped around him in the water, cold arms and warm legs, her heated breath on his neck, tiny little goose bumps raised over her smooth skin, the little pebbles on the tips of her breasts standing swollen and erect. God, he'd wanted to kiss and taste them so badly. He could only imagine how mind-blowing it would feel to be inside her, how warm and tight she'd be. Masen had told him that's what it felt like: like the most glorious, unimaginable heat and tightness surrounding you from absolutely every direction. Like you were cocooned in a piece of heaven where nothing else mattered._

_And yes, he'd accepted that he'd be going straight to hell if touching himself under the covers while he thought of making love to Bella was a sin, because he'd been doing it more or less nightly for the past few months. To Edward, Bella was everything a man could ever want in a woman, in every possible way. It was no wonder he was fighting off guys left and right to keep her._

_He snorted to himself and pushed all that out of mind, thinking only of Bella while his hand moved up and down his-_

##########

Then Masen started singing again.

"_She's gonna cry, until I tell her that I'll never roam_

_So Chattanooga Choo Choo-"_

Edward groaned loudly.

"Get out of bed, Little Brother!" Masen laughed. "I know what you're doing under those sheets!"

"Shut up before someone hears you!" he howled, face flaming, hands now in fists at his sides.

Masen laughed. "Why don't you come here and-"

"_We interrupt your scheduled programming to bring you this from our Honolulu, Hawaii affiliate. This is not a joke. This is an actual report."_

Edward sat up straight. Some instinct made his fisted hands ball up tighter and dig into his mattress.

"_Hello, NBC! Hello NBC!" _shouteda static-filled voice over the radio. "_This is KTU in Honolulu, Hawaii. I am speaking from the roof of the Advertiser Publishing Company Building. We have witnessed this morning the distant view of a full battle of Pearl Harbor and the severe bombing of Pearl Harbor by enemy planes, undoubtedly Japanese. The city of Honolulu has also been attacked and-"_

Masen rushed into the bedroom, bumping into the door frame in his haste while Edward jumped out of bed.

"Did he say bombing of Pearl Harbor?"

Masen nodded, his face suddenly drained of all blood. "What's in Pearl Harbor?"

"There's a naval base," Edward breathed.

"_This battle has been going on for nearly three hours. One of the bombs dropped within fifty feet of KTU tower. It is no joke. It is a real war. The public of Honolulu has been advised to keep in their homes and away from the Army and Navy. There has been serious fighting going on in the air and in the sea. The heavy shooting seems to be…"_

Static crackled, making the next, few words inaudible. Edward and Masen rushed into the parlor, crouching in front of the little, brown and beige _Philco_ radio situated over the small table they used to eat their meals, and while Masen banged it lightly, Edward adjusted the long, silver-toned antenna.

"…_cannot estimate just how much damage has been done, but it has been a very severe attack. TheNavy and Army appear now to have the air and the sea under control."_

"Attacked?" Masen asked in disbelief. "Is it a sick joke?"

"I don't know," Edward murmured, fisting the hair atop his head. "I don't-"

"_We repeat. This is an emergency broadcast. Pearl Harbor Base in Honolulu, Hawaii has beenattacked this morning by Japanese planes. We'll have-_"

The announcer was abruptly cut off and then replaced by the local announcer who, by all the stammering and stuttering he was doing, appeared to know absolutely nothing more than his listening public.

"Jesus," Masen breathed, plastering his huge palm over half of his face. "Oh Jesus. A naval base in Honolulu attacked? It's gotta be a joke, right? Some kind of stupid, sick joke."

While both brothers gaped at one another, there was sudden commotion from the outside hallway, voices raised in decibels much higher than usual; Mrs. Baker didn't tolerate too much noise. A woman suddenly wailed, and in the previously eerie silence, it sounded like an ambulance siren in an otherwise calm intersection. Edward felt light-headed. It was almost as if he were watching his actions through someone else's eyes as he walked to the door and threw it open, completely forgetting that he was still in his underwear and nothing more, and that it was something which Mr. Baker wasn't overly fond of. Stepping into the hallway, he edged closer to the staircase and peered down.

Mr. and Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Marks, the only other woman in the building, were in the middle of the hallway on the first floor. Mrs. Baker was leaning against the bannister and crying while Mrs. Marks wrapped her arms around her and Mr. Baker patted her shoulder.

"There, there."

"What happened?" Edward asked.

Mr. Baker looked up, and even from that distance, Edward could see the glazed, bewildered look in the man's eyes.

"Haven't you boys heard?"

"Is it true?" Edward asked, fisting his hair again because he felt as if he were stuck in some sort of foggy nightmare, and if he pulled hard enough, maybe he could wake himself.

An image of that other nightmare from months before – when Bella had been so impossibly out of his reach – suddenly struck him with an almost breathtaking force, and he visibly winced, quickly shaking his head to dispel the dream.

"It seems so. Mary here has a brother in the Navy."

"Jesus Christ," Masen choked, standing next to Edward. "Jesus, it's true. It's really true."

Edward stalked by him and back into the bedroom. He threw on some clothes, and in thirty seconds, he was back in the hallway. Yet even in that short period of time, almost every apartment on his floor, as well as those above and below, seemed to have emptied into the halls. He and Masen stood at the threshold between the hallway and their parlor so that they could hear the news reports and their neighbors simultaneously.

"They say the Japs are attacking Manila as we speak!"

"God damn Japs. God damn them to hell!"

"Where's Manila?"

"I just heard that the Nazis are involved too!"

"CBS is reporting that two battleships are giving the Japs chase through the Pacific!"

"Motherfuckers!" one of the boys howled, though Mr. and Mrs. Baker had strictly forbidden cursing in the building - along with booze and girls. "Motherfucking Japs! I'm gonna go kill me some of them motherless bastards!"

More than a few voices rose up in agreement.

Edward raked a hand down his face – and that was when it hit him.

The Pacific Fleet in Hawaii. The _Naval_ fleet.

There was a conversation he'd had with Bella a couple of summers ago. It was after she'd become his girl, and feeling slightly more conciliatory towards the man who'd gotten Bella's first kiss and whom he'd feared had stolen her affections away, they'd sat under the evergreen and had a calm and rational talk, and there was a part of that discussion that came to mind now.

"_Which ship is he on?"_

"_He's on the U.S.S….He's on the U.S.S….He's on the U.S.S…"_

"Fuck," he muttered, shutting his eyes tight as if that would somehow bring the forgotten piece of the puzzle to the forefront. "No," he breathed to himself. No, it couldn't be.

Edward's heart had been racing, but now it beat so painfully against his chest it felt as if it might implode from the pressure.

"No."

His footsteps began slowly, like a man struggling through quicksand, and then abruptly he was rushing past Masen once more and descending the staircase three steps at a time.

"Where are you going?" Masen yelled.

"I've got to call Bella!"

He darted past a sobbing Mrs. Baker and a stupefied Mr. Baker and straight into their apartment, through their larger parlor and into their kitchen where they kept their telephone.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been the first with that thought.

"I need to make a telephone call!" he told the line of men already waiting.

"Wait your turn," said the next man in line.

Edward sucked his teeth and turned in a tight semicircle, fisting his hair over and over and waited.

"Come on, you don't understand," he said after about a minute. "My girl, she's got a friend stationed at the Pearl Harbor Naval Base."

All three men waiting turned and looked at him, eyes wide and already full of sympathy.

"Ma, I'll call you back," the man currently using the telephone said, his hand gripping the black mouthpiece so hard his knuckles protruded. "Tell Pop not to worry. I'll be on my way home soon as I can, and then…" he drew in a deep breath. "I've got to go."

He hung up and then held out the mouthpiece to Edward.

Edward took the telephone from him and waited for the operator.

"I need a long-distance line to New Paltz, New York."

He waited for the local operator to connect to the long-distance operator, who then connected to the New Paltz operator.

"NP 2-3356," he instructed. When the busy signal rang in his ear, Edward let out a low oath.

"I'm sorry, Sir, that line is busy."

"Try this number then, please."

There were three numbers available for personal telephone calls for the girls who attended Miss Tudor's school. Edward tried all three with the same result.

"Can you interrupt the call please?" Edward pleaded. "It's an emergency." The line was silent, and then the operator came back on.

"I'm sorry, Sir. That line is not allowing any interruptions."

"Damn! Can you please try one more number in New York?"

The men behind Edward groaned loudly, sighing and sucking their teeth, but Edward ignored them.

"Riverside 8-7724. Philip Dwyer."

He waited.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but that line is busy."

"Interrupt it! This is an emergency!"

"I'm sorry, but the line is not allowing interruptions! You'll have to call back; the switchboard is overloading!" She disconnected and left Edward clutching a silent and useless telephone.

"Fuck!" he hissed.

"Edward, let me call my wife." Masen elbowed Edward aside and took the phone from him to more groans and complaints from the line growing behind them.

"Hey, you're cutting in!"

Masen ignored them all, but when his pointer finger anxiously pressed down on the receiver over and over with no result, he howled and flung the mouthpiece back over the small table.

"The switchboard's busy now!"

Edward swallowed, watching the way the telephone cord curled in on itself as one of the other boys picked up the phone and met with the same result: an overcrowded switchboard.

He raked a hand down his face hard, digging his short nails into his skin to try to wake from a nightmare that seemed more and more surreal with each passing second because if it was real...

"Come on," he told Masen. "Let's see if we can find out anything else. We'll try the telephone at the drugstore."

When they reached the streets, it was as they were in some sort of alternate universe. Usually on Sundays, there'd be men, women and children dressed in their Sunday best strolling down the streets, heading for church or breakfast or lunch. On Sundays, cars cruised by at a leisurely pace,maybe a few young men would gather around the corner-store radio, listening to the latest sports games. And then there were the Sunday lovers walking hand in hand, sharing an ice-cream float in the soda shop, making Edward's chest ache with longing.

Now, everywhere he looked, crowds gathered together, standing outside the soda shop or huddled together by cars, listening to the radio, but not to a football game that no longer mattered.

Instead, three words were on everybody's lips: "Pearl Harbor attacked. Pearl Harbor attacked."

Edward and Masen paused before a group clustered together next to a shiny, black Oldsmobile and listening to the news flashes coming through the car radio.

"Anything new?" Edward asked.

"Hickam Air Base over there in Hawaii's been attacked too!" one guy answered while scowling at the radio. "They're saying the entire Pacific Naval Fleet's been sunk, and the whole island's on fire! That's why none of the reporters can get through! Everything's been bombed, and they say the Japs are headed for the West Coast next! Jesus Christ. Jesus Lord Almighty!" He slammed a furious palm against the car's frame.

Edward walked off a few steps and raked both hands through his hair, fisting them tightly at the nape and throwing his head up to the clouded sky. His head pounded, temples throbbing the way they used to when he was a kid and that anger would just well up until it boiled over like one of his Mama's pots. The only thing that had finally managed to calm that anger was a little, chestnut haired and golden-eyed girl he'd pulled out of the river one warm afternoon.

That anger was back now, and the golden-eyed girl was nowhere in sight.

"Bella's friend," he told Masen, his voice shaking, "Jacob, his ship is in Hawaii, and if something happens to him, she…"

"Ah fuck," Masen whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Which ship?"

"_Which ship is he on?"_

"_He's on the U.S.S…."_

"I can't fucking remember."

Masen and Edward weren't much for swearing. Yes, the occasional curse would make its way through their lips like every other young fellow, but it wasn't something they'd grown up hearing much; therefore, it wasn't a usual habit.

But now, Edward wished he'd learned a word stronger than _fuck_ with which to express himself.

"I saw this coming," Edward hissed. "I knew it, but then…fucking college," he shook his head, chuckling morosely. "And now they've destroyed the god damn Pacific Fleet, and…" he let out a long breath, "and I'm over here, and Bella…Jesus Christ, _Bella_."

Masen eyed him carefully, scrubbing his chin hard with the pad of his palm.

"Alright," Masen said, swallowing thickly. "Alright, we don't know nothing yet. All this garbage is just happening now, and every station is reporting something different. We don't know nothing." He grabbed Edward by the shoulder like he used to when they were kids and Edward was getting ready to get himself into some sort of trouble. "Let's get us some facts, and find us another telephone, and then we'll figure things out."

When they reached the drugstore, Edward and Masen walked in to find the same sort of crowd that was gathered everywhere, ears stuck to the store's large radio in the corner.

Behind the counter was Marcus.

Marcus was a large, bald ex-Navy man with an eagle's tattoo on his left arm and a cigar constantly in his mouth. He spoke in short, succinct, telegram-like sentences. His appearance unnerved some, but in the year and a half or so that Edward and Masen had known him, they'd realized that Marcus was just a straightforward guy who couldn't stand bullshit and preferred to get to the point.

If anyone could do them the favor of separating fact from rumor right now, it was him.

"What's the word, Marcus?" Edward asked the drugstore owner.

"Aerial sneak attack by Japs at Pearl Harbor," he said in the same dry tone he always tended to speak in, only half his mouth - the half without the cigar - actually moving. "Naval Pacific Fleet and Hickam AFB badly damaged. Still ongoing. FDR's been informed. Press secretary says two waves at minimum. At least three battleships sunk. Casualties…" – he scowled – "…massive." He removed the cigar from his mouth, nostrils flaring.

"Boys, looks like we're finally going to war."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Well, we knew it was coming, right?**

**The above radio excerpt is one of the real, live announcements that occurred on that morning in mainland U.S., informing the nation of what was occurring in Hawaii.**

****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR ANYONE WHO'S INTERESTED****

**The attack on Pearl Harbor occurred during a time when most people in the U.S. (and the world) received their news from radios. For most Americans, news of the attack came as an interruption to their favorite radio programs on an otherwise quiet Sunday afternoon in early December of 1941. An AP bulletin at 1:07 p.m. Eastern Standard Time first reported the attack to mainland news organizations and radio networks. After confirming the initial bulletin with the government, the major networks interrupted regular programming at 2:30 p.m. Eastern Time (11:30 am West Coast), bringing news of the attack, still in progress, to the American public.**

**With Japanese planes still swarming overhead, a reporter climbed to the roof of the Advertiser Building in downtown Honolulu with microphone in hand and broadcast, over the NBC Blue Network from KGU, the first eyewitness account of the attack, reporting "This battle has been going on for nearly three hours... It's no joke, it's a real war." This is the transmission you read in the story.**

**Afterwards, Oahu was placed under a government-mandated blackout. No news could get around the island. For a while, those on the mainland knew more about what was happening in Hawaii than those actually on the island.**

**In Washington, D.C., the Redskins were playing an early afternoon game against the Philadelphia Eagles, when an announcement was made over Griffith Stadium's public-address system commanding all of the American generals and admirals there to report to their duty stations. One member of the press, there to cover the game, received a telegram from his wife telling him to report to his office immediately. Soon after, other press people were summoned by their offices through telegrams or errand boys. Those left behind to watch the game looked at one another in bewilderment. At no point was an announcement of what was happening made over the P.A. system, and, with no small, portable radios or cell phones available in the 1940s, those spectators were among the last Americans to learn of the Japanese attack.**

**Over the course of the day, the networks continued fleshing out the story as details became available, bringing home to listeners across the U.S. the full impact of Japan's sneak attack on Pearl Harbor.**

**The strike on Pearl Harbor was intended to keep the U.S. Pacific Fleet from interfering with military actions the Empire of Japan was planning in Southeast Asia. There were simultaneous Japanese attacks on the U.S.-held Philippines and on the British Empire in Malaya, Singapore, and Hong Kong.**

**The attack began at 7:48 a.m. Hawaiian Time. Going against the normal rules of war (yes, war does have rules), the attack happened without a prior declaration of war and without explicit warning.**

**As hinted in the story, due to Japanese imperial expansion and embargoes and sanctions against that government, relations between the U.S. and Japan had been strained for a long time. At the time of the attack, negotiations were ongoing in an attempt to prevent a war between the two nations. Proposals and counterproposals were issued all throughout the latter half of 1941, but even as the U.S. offered a counterproposal in late November, the main Japanese attack fleet had already left port for Pearl Harbor. In fact, preliminary planning for an attack on Pearl Harbor had begun very early in 1941.**

**By late 1941, many observers believed that hostilities between the U.S. and Japan were imminent, but while U.S. Pacific bases and facilities had been placed on alert on many occasions, U.S. officials doubted Pearl Harbor would be the first target; instead, they expected the Philippines would be attacked first.**

**As the first wave approached Oahu, it was detected by U.S. Army radar near the island's northern tip. This post had been in training mode for months, but wasn't yet operational. The Army Privates operating the post reported a target, but a newly assigned officer assumed it was the scheduled arrival of six B-17 bombers since the direction from which the aircraft were coming was close (only a few degrees separated the two inbound courses). And while the operators had never seen a formation as large on radar, they neglected to mention its size to the officer.**

**As the first wave of planes approached Oahu, they encountered and shot down several U.S. aircraft. At least one of these aircraft were able to radio in a warning. Other warnings from ships off the harbor entrance were still being processed or awaiting confirmation when the attacking planes began bombing.**

**The first wave of Japanese planes took advantage of the element of surprise to attack the most important ships present (the battleships), while dive bombers attacked U.S. air bases across Oahu, starting with Hickam Field, the largest, and Wheeler Field, the main U.S. Army Air Forces fighter base. The second wave attacked the Army Air Forces' Bellows Field near Kaneohe on the windward side of the island, and Ford Island.**

**Men aboard U.S. ships in the harbor, sleepy and undressed, awoke to the sounds of alarms, bombs exploding, and gunfire. They were horribly unprepared. Ammunition lockers were locked, aircraft parked wingtip to wingtip in the open to deter sabotage, and guns unmanned…**

*****We'll discuss more on Pearl Harbor in the next chapter*****

**AOI Playlist Song # 34: Let's Remember Pearl Harbor (1941) by Sammy Kaye:**

_**History in ev'ry century records an act that lives forevermore.  
We'll recall, as into line we fall, the thing that happened on Hawaii's  
shore.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all on Monday. Have a good weekend. :)**


	34. Chapter 33 - Only One Way

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. RL is very hectic lately, but I truly hope to get back to your reviews soon.**

**We're now getting into what will be the grit of the story here...**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 33 – Only One Way**

##########

"It was here then. What he'd been waiting for all along, since he was a kid," Skye murmurs. "War - his big adventure; the opportunity to defend his country and protect his homeland."

"Yes, it was exactly what he'd been waiting for. Only now that it was finally here…" I draw in a few, uneven breaths. "He wasn't afraid, mind you, or rather it wasn't fear for himself that froze him to that spot when Marcus confirmed what he'd already known. It was the fact that his love for me had done exactly what he'd always known it would do. Somewhere along the way, his priorities had shifted. Dreams of war and allegiance and glory had given way to dreams of love and marriage and children.

And now he'd have to do to me exactly what he'd always feared he'd have to do…what he'd allowed himself to forget…to ignore.

Yes, like all men on that horrific December day, the copper-haired man was full of anger and outrage. His blood boiled with dark thoughts of revenge and retribution - yet all that took a back seat to the terror he felt for _me_; not knowing where I was or what was happening with me clouded his mind to the point where he couldn't concentrate on anything else. He couldn't focus on the impending war or what that meant for him until he could be assured that I was safe. That I'd be okay."

"And were you okay, Nana?" Olivia asks gently.

When I close my eyes, I'm back in Papa Phil's Rolls Royce, being whisked away from New Paltz to New York City, then held in Papa Phil's arms as I begged him to use all his power and influence to find out what he could about Jacob and…and to keep the copper-haired young man safe.

I sigh deeply. "Let's continue with what was happening with the copper-haired young man."

##########

It took a half hour before Edward got his turn to use the drugstore's telephone. This time, when he requested a connection to the numbers of Bella's school, there was no answer at all.

"Goddamnit!" He slammed a furious fist over the counter, making the glass bottle of ketchup bounce loudly. Half a dozen men stood behind him waiting their turn, and when he tried Philip Dwyer once more, the line was once again busy, and the operator insisted she couldn't interrupt the call.

"Come on, Buddy," one of the men behind him moaned impatiently. "We need the phone too!"

"Ed, call Momma and Pop!" Masen instructed. "Rose should be there."

Groans resounded angrily behind him when Edward clicked the receiver one more time. Thankfully, Carlisle answered right away.

"Pop," Edward breathed.

"Edward, thank God. We've been waiting for you boys to call."

"You've heard then."

"Yes, son, we've heard. Everyone here is…" he trailed off with a heavy and weary breath.

"Is Rose there with them?" Masen pressed his head against Edward's so that he could hear. "Is she there?"

"Yes, Yes, Rose is here. Everyone's fine: your mom, Rose, Jasper and Alice," Carlisle assured them. "How are you boys? We keep hearing conflicting reports. Some say the West Coast is in danger."

Though Edward could sense his father's attempt to remain calm and in control, he also heard the edge of panic in his voice.

"Nothing's gonna happen here, Pop," Edward reassured him.

He glanced over at Marcus, who was standing stiffly by the entrance door, arms crossed. As if Marcus knew exactly what Edward and his father were discussing, he nodded once in confirmation.

"We're fine," Edward said quickly. "Pop-"

"Pop, put Rose on, please."

Edward elbowed Masen and shoved him away. "Pop, I'm going to put Mase on so he can speak to Rose, but first, have you by any chance heard from Bella?"

"Come on! You guys have had the phone long enough!"

"Her friend-" Edward turned his back on all the moaning and groaning. "Her friend, Jacob, he's stationed at the navy base in Hawaii. I tried calling her school, but there's no answer."

There was a short silence on the other end. "Edward, we've tried calling her as well. I've even tried calling Phillip in New York but haven't been able to get through. I'll keep trying though."

Edward closed his eyes in frustration. "Thanks, Pop. Okay, I'm going to put Masen on."

"Are you boys coming home?" Carlisle asked quickly.

"I imagine Masen will, but I'm not going anywhere, not until I get in touch with Bella."

"I understand," Carlisle said. "And Edward…just be careful, Son."

To Edward, it seemed as if there was more that Carlisle had wanted to say.

"Yeah, Pop. I will be."

OOOOOOOOOO

A couple of hours later, Masen was headed back to Forks, to his pregnant and frightened wife. Meanwhile, Edward still hadn't been able to get in touch with Bella.

He tried to telephone her a couple of more times from the drugstore telephone, and when that failed, he wandered around the streets for a while, gathering and sharing information with people on sidewalks, inside open stores, gathered around cars, all looking as bewildered and lost as he felt.

Eventually, he arrived back at the Bakers' apartment building, where their ground floor apartment had apparently become the building's gathering place for information. People were huddled around the large, living room radio to get the latest reports. FDR's press secretary was reporting that the First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, would be addressing the nation later that evening.

News reports coming in were unclear and unconfirmed. Some reported that the attacks on Hawaii were still ongoing while others reported that, after completely annihilating the small island of Oahu, the Japanese had finally left.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, Mrs. Baker stood from her seat at the table, where she'd been listening to a smaller radio.

"Edward, you received a telephone call from Isabella Dwyer. She's asked that you please call her back at her stepfather's residence as soon as you can and reverse the charges."

Edward lunged to the telephone, urging the long-distance operator to put the call through as quickly as possible. All the while, his chest felt so tight he wasn't sure how he was breathing.

"Please God," he murmured to himself over and over while the operator performed all the myriad connections necessary. "Please let her be okay."

Finally, the operator came back on the line and confirmed that the connection was ready.

"Edward," Philip said. "How are you, young man?"

Edward dispensed with pleasantries and formalities. "Mr. Dwyer, where's Bella? Is she okay?"

"Isabella is here, Edward, and she's fine."

A breath of air left Edward's lungs in one, long rush. It wasn't until that moment, until he heard those words that he realized he hadn't actually been breathing, not really. He leaned against the hard wall, his legs weak as he threw back his head against the blue and white paisley-themed paper.

"I had her picked up and brought home as soon as I was apprised of the situation," Philip continued. "Lauren is currently at her fiancé's home in the Caribbean. I don't want her returning to California until we're sure-"

"Can I please speak to Bella?" Edward interrupted, unable to pretend he gave a damn about Lauren's whereabouts.

"I'll have her on the line in a minute, but first, I wanted to speak to you. Isabella is very…distressed at the moment."

"Is there any word on Jacob?"

Philip was silent for a few seconds. "No. As of now, we have no word, but I'm doing everything I can to find out his status. That's not her only concern though. She's concerned you may do something…rash."

Edward swallowed. "Sir, may I please just speak to her?" His entire body vibrated with the need to hear her voice. The ache he felt was almost tangible, almost an entity he could feel crushing him with its weight. At that moment, he would've given anything, his very soul, to hold her in his arms.

He had a sudden flash of an image, of that day by the river last summer – that sunny, warm day Bella had called her heaven. He was hovered over her, his hands lost in her silky hair while she laughed that beautiful, melodious laugh of hers, so damn carefree and happy. A ghost of a smile danced across his features. If only he'd known, he would've made that day last longer, he would've done everything in his power to hold her there forever.

"Edward, before you do anything hasty, please think of Isabella. Think of…think of your mother."

"Sir, I think of Bella every second of my life."

There was a short pause. "Alright, Son. Hold on."

Edward heard what sounded like a door opening, Philip's muffled voice, and a few seconds later,

"Edward!" Bella cried over the telephone line. "Edward, are you alright?"

Edward closed his eyes and his entire body thawed like lava flowing over a mountain of ice. His knees gave out, and as his back slid against the wall, he sank to the floor, throat so tight he feared he may not be able to speak to her after all.

"Bella," he whispered, a smile lifting up the corners of his mouth despite everything. "Sweetheart, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

The sob that tore through her threatened to rip a hole through his chest.

"Shh," he cooed gently, trying to soothe her despite the long, inanimate telephone line that did such a poor job of connecting them. He couldn't find it in himself to give a damn that Mr. and Mrs. Baker and a crowd of men were watching him intently, listening to every word he spoke. "Shh, Sweetheart, it'll be okay."

"Edward, you've got to leave Seattle!" she pleaded. "There are reports that they're going to strike the West Coast next! Go home, Edward, _please!_ I spoke to your mom and-"

"You spoke to Mama?"

"A little while ago. She said you'd been trying to get ahold of me, but Papa Phil's driver picked me up as soon as we heard, and I didn't get a chance to call you until I arrived here, and by then you weren't there." She started crying.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sweetheart." He clutched the earpiece tightly, holding the mouthpiece up against his lips as if it were her soft, sweet skin. "I should've been here. I shouldn't have moved from this spot until I spoke to you."

"You're okay," she murmured. And it sounded as if she was trying to reassure herself of that fact even as she said the words. "You're okay." The fear in her voice made the ache in Edward's chest multiply exponentially. "Edward…Dad's gotten all the information from Uncle Billy and has given it to Papa Phil. Jacob…what if Jacob is…" she sobbed quietly.

"Calm down, Sweetheart. He'll be fine. He'll be just fine."

"I need you, Edward." The desperation in her voice shredded him to the core. "I need to hold you. I need you to hold me," she whispered.

"I need you too, Bella. God, Sweetheart, you have no idea how much. I'll see what I can work out, but in the meantime, please take care of yourself. Everything will be okay. I promise."

"Are you leaving Seattle?"

"Not just yet, Bella. I've got…I've got some things to take care of first."

She didn't say anything, but he could almost feel her silent tears over the static-filled line, each one hitting him like a dagger through the heart.

"I love you, Edward," she finally said. "No matter what, know that I love you."

"I love you too…more than my life."

"Hold on, Papa Phil wants to speak with you again."

He heard some more shuffling and then Philip's muffled voice once more, saying something that sounded like "privacy," followed by a door closing.

"Edward."

"Yes, Sir."

Philip sighed audibly. "Edward, keep in mind all the things we discussed this summer. The plans we've made."

"Sir," Edward snorted, "I think it's safe to say that a lot of the things discussed this summer are pretty much shot to hell."

"There are right ways to do things and wrong ways to do things. Now, I've spoken to your father. Your brother has a pregnant wife and you have a young woman who needs you. Neither of you should do anything until we've all had an opportunity to sit down and discuss things calmly and rationally. There are always alternatives…ways out of things."

Ways out of things.

For years now, Philip Dwyer the Second, Bella's stepfather, rich railroad tycoon and a man who ran an empire, had taken a keen interest in Edward's life. Oh, Edward knew exactly why: if Bella insisted on being with Edward, then at least Philip would do his damn best to ensure that his stepdaughter didn't end up with an uneducated pauper. And as Edward had told Bella on more than one occasion, he didn't begrudge Philip his way of thinking. In fact, Edward had a healthy dose of respect for Philip Dwyer.

But that didn't mean he fully trusted the man, or that he had any intention of licking his boots and allowing him to dictate every decision in his life the way Peter Vanderneck obviously planned to do.

"Sir, both you and I know that there's only one way out of this. Besides, from the looks of what happened today, I'd say rationality is pretty much non-existent at this point. I'll call back in a few hours. In the meantime, please take care of Bella."

And he hung up before Philip could further attempt to run his life.

OOOOOOOOOO

"_Which ship is he on?"_

"_He's on the…"_

_Bella ran through the woods, her bare feet padding quietly over the soft grass, dark hair waving in the breeze while the hem of her pretty, blue dress fluttered around her thighs. _

_Edward was chasing her. Every few seconds, when she'd turn around and laugh at him, her golden eyes would twinkle. Then she'd face forward and resume her game, running from him faster and faster._

"_Bella, hold on!" Edward chuckled, but Bella simply laughed and kept running, her speed increasing with every step._

_Edward groaned and continued his chase._

"_Bella!" _

_She didn't turn. He called her name, but this time, she refused to look at him. Instead, she picked up her speed. His legs began to ache, and his breathing grew anxious and heavy._

"_Bella, please!"_

_It grew dark, so dark it seemed like an unending void of nothingness, and though Bella was no longer running, Edward still couldn't catch up to her. He could barely make out her shape anymore, yet he kept running, his heart pounding painfully in his chest._

"_Bella, please wait!"_

"_I tried, but I couldn't catch her either." _

_Surprised by the voice, Edward's head pivoted to the side where Jacob Black was now running next to him, dressed in an impeccably white naval uniform. _

"_Maybe neither one of us was ever meant to catch her."_

"_What?" Edward stopped and so did Jacob. _

"_No!" Edward hissed. "No, you're wrong!"_

_When he blinked, Jacob disappeared, vanished as if he'd been swallowed up by the black void. Confused, he faced forward again to find that though Bella was still far ahead, she was no longer alone. _

_Peter was next to her._

"_Bella!" _

_He picked up his pace and finally closed the space between them._

"_Sweetheart." He reached out for her, his hand trembling as he rested it on her shoulder. But before he could turn her around, someone grabbed him from behind, and an implacable fear arose in his chest. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out._

He woke with a loud gasp.

"Edward, you have a telephone call."

He had to blink a few times to realize that he wasn't still stuck in a lightless world where Bella was unreachable. Pivoting his head from side to side, he oriented himself with the large, paisley-wallpapered kitchen where he'd apparently succumbed to sleep on one of the kitchen chairs, head splayed out on the table.

"You have a call from New York!" Mrs. Baker repeated, urgently shaking his shoulder.

Like a heavy, flowing stream emptying into a wide, dark river, everything rushed back. A quiet morning which had been full of dreams and hopes had turned into an attack in the Pacific that had changed everything, Bella's tears…Jacob…

Jacob.

Edward knocked over the chair he'd been sitting on as he jumped to the telephone. He picked it up and attached the receiver to his ear and the mouthpiece to his mouth so quickly that he managed to bang himself hard on the temple and lips.

"Bella?"

"Edward, it's Philip Dwyer. Please apologize to your landlady on my behalf for the time of my call, but it couldn't wait until daylight."

Edward's eyes swept the kitchen, passing over the rainy, morning darkness shadowing the window and landing over the wooden clock on the wall that read four eighteen.

"Is Bella okay?"

"Isabella is resting at the moment."

Edward was acutely aware of the vein thrumming in his temple, of the blood pulsing wildly in his veins.

"What is it?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"I received confirmation late last night that the Japanese attack sunk four of the eight battleships at the harbor. Among those was the_ USS Arizona_."

Edward shut his eyes tightly.

"_Which ship is he on?"_

"_He's on the USS Arizona."_

"Reports indicate that the _Arizona_ was hit by four, perhaps five aircraft bombs. They're not sure yet. One of the bombs may have hit the ammunitions storage on the ship because there was a…massive explosion. With all the confusion going on over there…" – Philip drew in a deep, shaky breath, and Edward heard him swallow thickly – "the body of Navy Seaman First Class Jacob Joseph Black was recovered last evening from the harbor. They were able to identify him by his tags."

"Jesus, _God_," Edward choked. "Bella. I've got to speak to Bella."

"The physician has been here and administered sedatives. Isabella will be asleep for a while."

Edward pressed the receiver to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh God. Oh Jesus. My sweet girl," he murmured more to himself than anyone.

"The Navy will lay Jacob's body to rest in Hawaii, but there will be a memorial for him in his hometown in four days' time. Isabella will be traveling to Chicago tomorrow with a security team. With everything that's happening, I'd prefer to have her away from the coasts. I wish I could accompany her myself, but I have urgent business in D.C., and with all that's occurred in the past twenty-four hours or so, my wife simply isn't fit to accompany Isabella either."

"I'll meet Bella there."

His voice shook, and he wasn't sure if it was more from fury or bewilderment or just plain shock. But he knew he needed to be with Bella. He could only imagine the thoughts running through her head.

She'd blamed herself for hurting Jacob after Edward had been the one to insist that she write to him and tell him about their relationship. And since receiving Jacob's last letter, he knew she'd been anxious to speak to him face to face, to clear things up. And now…

Jesus, what had he done? How could he ever make this right?

How could anything ever be right again?

"Very well," Philip agreed. "You'll have to leave very early tomorrow, on the first train out of Seattle, which means you should spend today getting your things ready and informing the university that you'll be away for a week or two at the most."

Edward didn't respond.

"Edward, Isabella is distraught. She needs you and…she needs a woman she can trust. I've asked your father to allow your mother to meet Isabella in Chicago."

"My mother?"

"As I said, I've spoken to your father, and he's agreed. I know that Carlisle can't leave Forks at the moment to escort her, so I've asked Felix to-"

"That won't be necessary," Edward said. "I'll escort my mother."

"Very well. I'll make the arrangements then."

They worked out the logistics and ended the call. Edward then called home and spoke to his father and mother and confirmed what Philip had said, that Esme would be traveling to Chicago with him the next day. Carlisle would bring her as far as Seattle.

Then he spoke to Masen.

"Have you enlisted yet?"

Masen's question took him by surprise, even though it shouldn't have. Maybe it was because he hadn't expected it from him.

"No."

"I'll be going later today. I know you've always dreamed of flying, Ed, but…I think I'd like to serve as a medic. I would've wanted to help those poor guys at Pearl…"

It was strange. He should've been stunned. Masen, his big brother who'd never wanted more than to marry Rose, put a few babies in her, and finish enough schooling to take over for Pop, was enlisting.

"Are you sure? What does Rose say?"

"She's…" – Masen exhaled - "she's terrified. Scared we're going to wake up to bombs falling all around us. Cried all night. And we've got a baby coming. I mean, what kind of world is our kid gonna be born into?"

Edward had no answer. "What does Pop say?" he asked instead, thinking of what Philip had told him.

"Pop says we're grown men. He's not happy about it, but…he understands."

Edward nodded silently. He had no idea what the talk between Philip and Carlisle had consisted of, but Philip could make of it whatever he wanted. He knew his father, and Carlisle had never been the type of man to decide for his sons.

"I can't let my family live this way, Ed. I never wanted this," Masen hissed shakily. "I've never dreamed of battles or glory the way you have. All I want is a nice, quiet life, and now they're trying to take that away from me – from my wife! This is our goddamn country!" he said heatedly. "Our family! And they've…they've…" his voice broke, and Edward closed his eyes, fighting back the sting in the outer corners, the tightness in his throat. "I didn't know Jacob. I didn't know any of the men who died yesterday…but they were all my brothers."

"And Jasper?" Edward asked.

"Jasper's coming to the recruitment office with me, but with his leg…I don't know."

"And what does he plan to do if they turn him away?"

This time, it was Masen who had no answer.

Afterwards, Edward wandered the streets for a while. He bought the Seattle Post from a newsstand and stood at the corner, reading the bold, black headline: "Japan, U.S. at War." Nothing had been officially declared yet, but the Cabinet was in an emergency session at that very moment, and FDR was scheduled to address the nation later that day.

When he was done with the paper, he lowered it and stared straight ahead.

He'd always known it would come to this. For a while, he'd allowed himself to forget, to pretend it wouldn't happen, to play the part of the college boy who'd put a ring on his sweetheart's finger and make everything else disappear. Hitler would no longer exist, the horrors in Europe would end, an empire in the East would easily accept U.S. demands – everything would magically fall into place. He allowed Renee Dwyer and Peter Vanderneck to play the roles of the biggest villains in his world.

His heart clenched painfully.

_Bella_.

He'd always known he'd do this to her. It was why he'd tried staying away from her, why he'd treated her like a little girl. Yet in the end, he'd been too weak to resist her.

Now the ring he'd planned to give her lay heavy and burning in his right pocket. He felt for the box, his hand fisting around it, fingers feeling as if they'd blister from its heat, and he cursed the Japs and the Nazi's and all of them to the deepest pits of hell because he'd been so close - so, so close.

Now Navy Seaman First Class Jacob Black was dead, and Edward would never get the chance to look him in the eye, man to man, and tell him that he hadn't stolen Bella away. You can't steal what's always been yours. Jacob was dead without the knowledge that he hadn't lost. It simply had never been a competition. There had never been another option. He'd never get the chance to make him understand, for Bella's sake, and Bella…now Bella might hate him for it forever.

Jacob was dead.

The number of casualties were still unclear, but Bella was sick with fear and heartache. His father, always so strong and brave, sounded panicked. Masen was going to war. His mother had sobbed uncontrollably.

And Jasper…

"_There's a right way, and there's a wrong way,"_ Philip had told him earlier.

Sometimes there was a right way and a wrong way. Practically forcing Bella to write Jacob that letter had definitely been the wrong way, and now it was something he'd never be able to make up to her…or to Jacob.

He owed him. He'd owe him a debt of honor for the rest of his goddamn life. He'd owe every man who'd lost his life yesterday. Because while they'd been defending and serving, he'd been solving algorithms and equations.

"Sometimes there's only one way," he murmured to himself as he looked into the crowded office before him.

He was given a physical, eye exam, classification test, and then handed his partially complete WD qualification card. And when it was all done, he was told he'd have a week to get his things in order.

Two and a half days to Chicago, forty-eight hours there, two and a half days to Sheppard Field, Texas…to basic training.

And as he stood arm to arm in the crammed room, waiting with dozens of other men to swear his oath, the large radio played FDR's address to Congress and to the nation:

"_Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, members of the Senate and the House of Representatives:_

_Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan…"_

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED****

**The second wave of the attack was divided into two groups. One was tasked to attack Kāneʻohe, the rest, Pearl Harbor proper. **

**Ninety minutes after it began, the attack was over, and 2,008 sailors were killed while 710 others were wounded; 218 soldiers and airmen were killed and 364 wounded; 109 marines were killed and 69 wounded; and 68 civilians were killed and 35 wounded. In total, 2,403 Americans died and 1,178 were wounded. Eighteen ships were sunk or run aground, including five battleships. Of the 402 American aircraft in Hawaii, 188 were destroyed and 159 damaged, 155 of them on the ground. Eight Army Air Forces pilots managed to get airborne during the attack and six were credited with downing at least one Japanese aircraft during the attack. **

**Of the American fatalities, nearly half were due to the explosion of the **_**USS Arizona's**_** magazine after it was hit by a modified 16 inch shell. **

**Several Japanese junior officers urged Japan's commanders to carry out a third strike in order to destroy as much of Pearl Harbor's fuel and torpedo storage, maintenance, and dry dock facilities as possible, but the third strike never happened. Military historians have suggested the destruction of these would have crippled the U.S. Pacific Fleet far more seriously, and prolonged the war by another two years. The elimination of the battleships left the U.S. Navy with no choice but to rely on its aircraft carriers and submarines—which turned out to be the very weapons with which the U.S. Navy halted and eventually reversed the Japanese advance. **

**Despite having no warning, many American military personnel responded effectively during the Pearl Harbor attack. Ensign Joe Taussig Jr., aboard the **_**USS Nevada**_**, commanded the ship's antiaircraft guns and was severely wounded, but continued to be on post. Lt. Commander F.J. Thomas commanded USS **_**Nevada**_** in the captain's absence and got her under way until the ship was grounded at 9:10 a.m. Captain Mervyn Bennion, commanding the **_**USS West Virginia**_**, led his men until he was cut down by fragments from a bomb which hit the **_**USS Tennessee**_**.**

**There is a famous quote attributed to Japanese Admiral Yamamoto, planner of the attack, immediately afterwards, while the rest of the Japanese Navy celebrated a successful attack: **

"_**I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."**_

**The truth is that there is no evidence that Yamamoto ever actually made this statement. What is known is that he was very upset at the fact that the Japanese foreign ministry had failed to deliver to the US Ambassador Japan's note declaring the end of negotiations – which was to have been delivered right before the attack and which would have constituted a warning of impending aggression. Instead, the attack on Pearl Harbor is forever now known as a "sneak attack" against the formal rules of war.**

**The "quote" however, was a very prophetic statement indeed. **

**After a systematic search for survivors, formal salvage operations began. Within six months, five battleships and two cruisers were patched or refloated so they could be sent to shipyards in Pearl Harbor and on the mainland for extensive repair. The **_**Oklahoma**_**, while successfully raised, capsized while under tow to the mainland in 1947. The **_**Arizona**_** and the **_**Utah**_** were too heavily damaged for salvage, though much of their armament and equipment was removed and put to use aboard other vessels. Today, the two hulks remain where they were sunk, with the **_**Arizona**_** becoming a war memorial. The **_**USS Arizona Memorial**_** honors the lives lost on the day of the attack. The structure has a sagging center with its ends strong and vigorous. It commemorates "initial defeat and ultimate victory" of all lives lost on December 7, 1941.**

**Only eight hours after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japan attacked the Philippines. Three days after the attack, they sunk the British ships **_**Prince of Wales**_** and **_**Repulse**_** off the coast of Malaya.**

**FDR's 'Day of Infamy' speech, delivered to a Joint Session of Congress and aired live over radio at 1:30 p.m. the day after the attack, is one of the most famous, powerful and heart-wrenching speeches ever given. It called for a formal declaration of war against the Empire of Japan, which Congress granted unanimously less than an hour later. ****On December 11, Germany and Italy, honoring their commitments under the Axis Powers' Tripartite Pact, declared war on the United States. Congress then issued a declaration of war against Germany and Italy later that same day. Great Britain actually declared war on Japan nine hours before the U.S. did, partially due to Japanese attacks on Malaya, Singapore and Hong Kong - at the time, U.K. colonies - and partially due to Winston Churchill's promise to declare war "within the hour" of a Japanese attack on the United States. **

**In the days and weeks following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Patriotism soared, and hundreds of thousands Americans rushed to enlist in the armed forces. All across the country, in urban and rural communities, military recruiting offices were jammed. Some offices announced they would stay open 24 hours, seven days a week to accept enlistments. Even Veterans of the first World War wanted to enlist, even though most were too old. Within 30 days of the attack on Pearl Harbor, over 130,000 men had enlisted in one of the various arms of the U.S. military.**

**And for those who are still with me here, the following is the ending portion of FDR's Day of Infamy speech:**

"…_**Always will be remembered the character of the onslaught against us.**_

_**No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people, in their righteous might, will win through to absolute victory.**_

_**I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.**_

_**Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.**_

_**With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounded determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.**_

_**I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December seventh, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire."**_

**\- President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, December 8, 1941.**

*****END OF HISTORY LESSON*****

**AOI Playlist Song #35: **_**Draftin' Blues**_** (1940) by Count Basie:**

_**Now if you got a lovin' man you gotta love him while you can**__**  
**__**Perhaps he'll have to do his share to help defend this dear old land.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	35. Chapter 34 - My Rock

**A/N: Thank you so much for your continued thoughts. I truly appreciate every single one.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 34 – My Rock**

* * *

_**Fall, 1933:**_

"_**You were right, Tonto; there is a man here! Looks like he's badly wounded!" **_

"_**Uh huh. Buzzard in sky always give sign."**_

_Jacob and I inched our ears closer to the radio. The Lone Ranger grunted, and the shuffling of his leather belt, accompanied by the tinkling of the silver spikes on his boots informed us that he'd knelt in front of the man on the ground._

"_**Go back to the horses! Bring a blanket and a canteen of water!"**_

_We stared at each other, silent as mice as we listened to what was obviously Tonto's quickly retreating footsteps._

"_Who do you think hurt the-"_

"_Shh!" Jacob ordered._

"_**Here's the blanket and the canteen!"**_

"_**Good, now while I give him a drink of water, you fold the blanket into a pallet."**_

"_What's a pallet?"_

"_Darn it, Isabella!" Jacob shot me a sharp look._

_I dropped to my bottom and crossed my arms against my chest, glaring at Jacob. His white teeth and shirt were the only things that contrasted with all the shades of brown surrounding him. Even the faux leather gun belt wrapped around his narrow waist was brown - as was the gun held up at the ready in case the Ranger ever decided to make Jacob his new sidekick._

"_Jacob, do you know what divorce is?"_

_Other than for the sidelong warning glance he spared me, I received no response._

"_Because Mother and Dad are getting one."_

_When The Lone Ranger and Tonto were ambushed by a gang of bank robbers, I gave up on a response all together. But then the interlude music began, and with an exasperated breath, Jacob shifted to sit on the floor next to me._

"_No, they're not," he said. _

"_Yes, they are. They told me so."_

_He snorted. "When did they tell you that?" _

"_Yesterday."_

_He shook his head. "You must've misunderstood."_

"_Mother says she and I are moving to New York in a few weeks. I'm to have a new father – a man we met when Mother and I went to New York over the summer."_

"_You're crazy," he laughed. "Been listening to too many radio shows meant for older ladies."_

"_I have not," I frowned. "Watch! In a few weeks, when I'm not here anymore and you've got no one who wants to play Lone Ranger with you, you'll see I was right."_

"_Sure I will," he smirked. Then he picked up his brown gun, pointed it at the ceiling and made gunshot noises. "In the meantime, Tonto, you'd better hug the floor cuz they're shootin' high!"_

"_Will do, Kemosabe!" I said and crawled away on my hands and knees to avoid the spray of bullets._

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_**Summer, 1936:**_

"_You should've heard it, Isabella!" Jacob's fists punched at empty air. We were sitting outside on the porch on a warm, June night during one of my short, summer visits. "Schmeling spent the first three rounds jabbing Louis and sneaking right crosses behind his jabs. By the fourth round, he'd knocked Louis right on his behind!"_

_I listened to Jacob's replay of the fight that he, our dads and some of the other neighborhood men and boys had listened to over the radio the night before - a fight that later became known as one of the biggest upsets in boxing history as much for how unexpected Joe Louis's loss had been as for the fact that Schmeling was a boxer out of Nazi Germany._

"_Then, in the twelfth round, he landed a right to Louis's body followed by a right to his jaw and knocked him out!" Dropping his fists, he shot me a forlorn look. "Boy, I wish I would've been there to take over for Louis."_

_I shook my head. "Edward's not going to be happy about that."_

"_Who's Edward again?"_

"_My friend Alice's big brother. He's a big Joe Louis fan too."_

"_Oh," Jacob said. "'S a shame we all live so far away from each other. Maybe we could've all been friends."_

"_Yes," I smiled, "we probably could've been."_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_**Summer, 1940:**_

_Edward was kissing me for the very first time, and I was discovering what it truly meant to lose your breath, to float in a cloud somewhere close to heaven. When we came up for air, he rested his forehead against mine._

_"That was…" _

_"__Amazing__," he finished for me._

_Our lips met softly yet again._

_"I do love him," I said, quickly adding, "but only as a friend. He was my beau last summer because I didn't know there could be more, and he still wants to be my beau – to formally ask for my dad's permission. I told him we'd wait until he came back to decide anything, and he was willing to wait, but..."_

_"But what, Bella?"_

_"But you're the one I'm__in__love with, Edward. It's always been you."_

_He kissed me again, a kiss full of both passion and triumph. _

_"And know this, Edward, I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. I won't ever ask you to believe yourself a coward. I love you for all that you are, for all that you want to be, and I won't ask you to do something you don't feel right about."_

OOOOOOOOOO

**_December 11, 1941_**

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be._

My eyes focused straight ahead, only vaguely seeing the huge American flag hanging by the entrance to the bustling Great Hall at Chicago's Union Station, stars and stripes fading and distorting into one, unrecognizable blot of red bleeding over blue and white - like blood over a pristine harbor.

I shut my eyes tightly, shaking my head to dispel the images circling in my head, but the familiar tears pooled at the corners.

Attempting a deep breath, I managed to push the tears back down, as I'd been doing for the past few days, and once more opened my eyes, sweeping them across the Great Hall where I waited for Edward and Esme's arrival. The magnificent, glass-vaulted ceiling above me revealed snow falling outdoors, bathing the day's light in deceptively white, pristine tones as if the world were just one unblemished, clean slate. I switched my gaze to the long, round columns on either side of the large, imposing room, strong and robust. People, eyes wide and wary, hurried by in a nervous frenzy, pounding over the marble floors where others stood around, leaning into one another's ears and sharing the day's headlines. Mothers with faces full of unspoken fear and terror held on tightly to their children.

I swallowed thickly and closed my eyes once more.

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

Had I truly once spoken those naïve words?

"Are you okay, Isabella?"

A short, startled gasp fought its way out of my throat, a scream gurgling just behind it, but I refused to give it purchase. Charlie took a seat next to me, and I looked over at him, attempting a smile.

"Yes, Dad. I'm fine."

He held my gaze over the long, mahogany wood benches, and I got the distinct impression that I hadn't been too convincing. Grim and exhausted yet perceptive eyes scrutinized me carefully, and as they did, I noted the lines marring my father's once smooth forehead, the greying along his temples that I couldn't recall seeing before, the contours of grief around the outer edges of his eyes that seemed to have aged him a decade since last summer.

The late morning _Extra_ he'd gone to purchase from the newsstand was rolled like a bat under his arm.

"Is it in there?" I asked.

He nodded morosely, keeping the paper tightly tucked under his arm as if somehow that would make the headlines go away.

"Germany and Italy have both declared war. Congress is expected to respond with its own declaration by the end of the day. Their allies are expected to declare war on us soon as well, and…we'll respond in kind, of course."

I nodded emptily.

"And the Japanese are still concentrating their efforts on capturing the Philippines, but General MacArthur is holding firm."

I responded with another numb, surreal nod.

War had come to our door, and in a swift, irrefutable manner, sneaking through the threshold as dawn broke, leaving death and destruction in its wake.

"It was expected," I said, barely recognizing my own voice.

Charlie rested his hand over mine, and I pretended I didn't notice how his bottom lip quivered.

"Yes," he whispered so quietly I barely heard him over the bedlam enclosing us. "It was. Isabella…" he cleared his throat. "Honey, does Edward know that Jacob planned to ask for permission to court you upon his…return?" His voice shook on the last word.

I nodded.

"And he had…no hard feelings towards Jacob because of that?"

This time, I shook my head because I'd never tell my father that Edward had been more than relieved when I'd finally written Jacob of our relationship. I knew that in the last few months, Edward's jealousy towards Jacob had ended, just as I knew that in the end, it had been _my_ decision to write Jacob instead of waiting for his return. And I knew that had it been the other way around, I would've stormed and raged and begged and pleaded for Edward to write that letter.

Now Jacob was dead.

He'd died on a small island in the Pacific believing I knew nothing of respect or honor, the same crimes Edward had hurled at Peter just last summer; he'd died believing that I'd played with his heart, and I had no one but myself to blame.

The bell signaling the arrival of a train freed me from my father's scrutiny. I ran to the Arrivals and Departures board, attempting yet another deep breath when I saw that the _Union Builder,_ in from Seattle, was now arriving at Terminal Seven for its scheduled stop-over before proceeding on its way east.

But I hadn't breathed easy in days.

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

Dad and I took the steps down to the concourse level, and as we stepped onto the platform, the steam engine whistled past us, leaving thick, black smoke in its wake. My shallow breaths mingled with the swirling smoke, growing more and more insubstantial as the seconds passed.

When the train finally came to a stop, the doors slid open and the porters stepped out in front of the passengers. Letting go of Charlie's hand, I slowly made my way down the length of the platform, my eyes scanning each car for two matching heads of hair and for two pairs of evergreen eyes.

"Isabella, why don't we just wait right here?"

My poor father's question was left dangling with the rest of the snowflakes in the cold, December air when I spotted him.

Frozen to my spot, I watched him step off of the train dressed in one of his best day suits, one small suitcase in hand. He turned and reached for Esme's bag before helping her off the train.

"Is that them?" Charlie asked from my side. All I managed was a slow nod.

As soon as Edward had his mother off the train, he turned, and his eyes found mine.

Slowly, he removed his fedora as we drank each other in like two, parched wanderers who'd just discovered an oasis of water. I had a sudden flashback of every single time I'd made my summer trek to Forks since the age of nine and all the differences I'd always found in him year after year. Summer after summer, he'd grown from a boy to a man right before my eyes: tall, strong, and so unbelievably handsome. Except now, tension rimmed his broad shoulders, fixing them into a stiff line as if preparing themselves for the weight of the world. His strong chest expanded with one long, heavy breath, as if the hardest task of his life lay ahead. Dark circles framed his eyes, hinting at the sleepless nights that had befallen the entire nation within the last few days. And fury, even from here, and despite the relief and love that shone through them, I could still see the shades of fury tainting his once clear pupils.

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

I wasn't even sure how he'd gotten to me when I felt my feet leave the ground, my entire being completely enveloped within his arms, and I knew in that moment that if the world truly was ending, as so many had said over the past few days, then as long as Edward was with me when it happened, I'd be okay.

After a while, he pulled away, gazing at me through heartbreakingly beautiful, melancholic green eyes, and for those few moments, no one else existed. We weren't surrounded by hundreds of people on a busy platform. My father wasn't standing awkwardly next to us. Esme wasn't holding back to give us space and time. Edward's eyes locked me in their fiery, demanding gaze, and nothing else mattered. I held on to his shoulders, digging my fingers into the unyielding skin to reassure myself that he was really here, that he was warm flesh and blood and…and safe.

"Bella…" he breathed, and with all the emotion put into that one word, all my defenses threatened to crumble. I whimpered, holding back the impending tears, and before I knew it, I was back in the crushing fold of his arms.

"Oh Baby," he whispered, pressing anxious kisses all over my face and on top of my head. "I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm here."

My throat tightened painfully with the sob begging to break loose, with the screams fighting to erupt from somewhere deep inside. But I wouldn't do that to him. I wouldn't burden him with faults that were mine to bear.

"I'm okay," I insisted instead. "I'm okay, Edward."

His hold tightened all the more as if he were terrified to let go of me, his strong hands stroking my back and wrapping around me so possessively that I wasn't sure where he ended and I began.

At some point, Charlie cleared his throat, yet it was with obvious reluctance that Edward allowed my feet to touch concrete once more. Then I was quickly shifted into Esme's warm embrace, her chest soft and much more giving than Edward's, yet in its own way as strong and soothing as his. In the background, I could vaguely make out Edward and Charlie's introductions to one another - the clapping of palm against palm.

"Sir, I'm Edward Cullen. It's good to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too, Edward, though I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Bella, Sweetheart," Esme murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for coming, Esme."

She pulled away, and as her son had done moments ago, held me locked in eyes so beautiful and yet so pained.

"I will always try to be here when you need me."

Her words, as well as the tender way in which she looked at me caused the tears to well up once more.

I introduced her to my Dad, whom she'd spoken to on a couple of occasions the summer that Alice had come to stay with us in Chicago. Then we made our way through the terminal and took the El high above the ground to our small suburb just outside of the city limits. The entire time, Edward kept me close to him, knitting our hands together, kissing my hair and my face, rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles with the pads of his thumbs. Dad's nervous eyes trailed continuously and none too surreptitiously between our faces and the possessive way Edward held me, the way we clung to one another. And while Edward, Dad and Esme conversed quietly, I simply reveled in breathing the same air as Edward. We said little to one another - aware of our surroundings in a way we hadn't been at the terminal and aware of the fact that the things we had to say to one another were better said while alone.

When we exited the El and arrived at Dad's Ford, it was covered in the day's snow. While Dad cleaned it off, Edward helped Esme into the front seat and me into the back. I noted the way that Charlie's eyes narrowed at the seating arrangements, but he said nothing as Edward loaded the bags into the trunk. After helping Dad with the rest of the snow, Edward climbed in next to me, hands and body cold from being outside, but when he pulled me into his side once more, the warmth that radiated off of him was staggering. I angled myself into his side and melted against his skin while Edward unapologetically wrapped both of his arms around my shoulder and nudged my head into the crook of his neck. And there, in the relative privacy of the car and for the first time in days, I was able to inhale slowly and deeply.

In Dad's defense, he made the short, drive home without a word of reprimand or reproach; although, his eyes continuously roamed between the rearview mirror and the windshield. But at that moment, I could've no more pulled away from Edward than I could've pulled out my own heart. And for his part, Edward made no effort to leave space between us. I'd meant to ease Dad into the intensity of the relationship between Edward and me - eyes meeting here, a soft smile there, two hands intertwined during a walk, the shared laughter of two people in love.

But so many plans had gone awry since last Sunday morning. Jacob was dead, and Edward…Edward…

##########

"You knew," Skye cuts me off. "You knew he was going off to the war."

"Yes," I smile. "Of course I knew. I knew from the moment our eyes met at Union Station. I probably knew before that. He'd been telling me of his dreams, of his duty to his country since I was nine years old, and if I hadn't known with one look at him, what would that say about us? I knew," I sigh, "I just didn't know how quickly…or maybe I simply wasn't willing to accept that part of it yet, preferring to bask in the warmth of his arms, in the tenderness of his touch, in the heat of his love for a few more minutes before being forced to face yet more reality that I wasn't ready for."

##########

So instead, I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that it was the way it was always supposed to be: Edward had come to visit me in Chicago so that he could meet Charlie and Jacob. Jacob would be home in a few days as well, and then we'd all talk and figure things out and be the best of friends again and…and…

I shuddered and pressed my nose into the thrumming vein in Edward's neck.

"Baby," he whispered quietly while Charlie and Esme kept up a faltering yet steady conversation in the front. "I'm so-"

"Just hold me," I whispered back. "Just hold me right now, Edward."

And he held me, kissing the crown of my head every few seconds. He and Dad exchanged a few words about the day's news: the fact that we were now at war with all Axis powers, the train ride and the weather. In the meantime, I closed my eyes and dreamed of a place where the river flowed far and wide, where Sandy ran and barked and Gus chased after her while all the people most important to me laughed and splashed safely and soundly.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was a short while later when we arrived at the house where I'd spent the first eight years of my life before Mother found her "Prince Charming." As the four of us crowded into the small living room where I'd once played and laughed with Jacob, I realized just how small the space really was, how sparsely furnished, with only the mere basics and necessities. A lone picture of me as a baby hung from a white frame on one of the walls as the only indication that there had once been a family and happy smiles in this threadbare home.

I wondered what Edward thought of this proof that I hadn't always been Philip Dwyer's stepdaughter; rather, that I'd once been Isabella _Swan_ – a girl who'd never meant to leave Chicago and her friend Jacob behind. Yet it's what I'd done, and in the last few years, I'd barely looked back.

Dad invited Esme and Edward to make themselves comfortable; though, having been a loner for the past few years, I knew how uncomfortable this arrangement was making him.

"The funeral is tomorrow at one p.m.," Dad stated, sitting in his worn, brown lounger while Esme, Edward and I crowded together on the lone couch. "He's gettin' full military honors from the Navy; there'll be a two-bell ceremony and a rifle salute followed by a flag presentation for Billy, Jacob's father…but there won't be a body. The Navy is cremating him in Hawaii, which I can only imagine means his body must've been in really bad shape."

Fighting back a sick moan, I stood and served iced tea from the pitcher situated on the coffee table, the same coffee table and pitcher we'd had since I was a little girl.

"Billy will meet us here," Dad continued, "and then we'll leave together."

Edward, who'd been sitting next to me, stood and walked to the window, raking a hand through his hair before hanging his head and digging his hands deep into his pockets.

"How is his father doing?" Esme asked.

"He's…taking it hard, as I'm sure you can imagine," Charlie admitted. "Jacob was his only son. He lost his wife to Scarlet Fever when Jacob was just a baby. Got no one left now. He'd re-enlist if he could, but the army won't take him. Too old besides the missing leg."

Even from here, I could hear Edward's heavy breaths, and I watched the way he kept his eyes focused on the falling snow.

"Poor man," Esme murmured, shaking her head. "I don't know what I'd do…"

The words hung in the air while Edward's chest continued to move up and down over heavy breaths.

"Esme, I hope you don't mind sharing Isabella's room while you're here. It's…a small house," Dad said, his face flushing as he scrubbed the nape of his neck.

"Not at all," Esme smiled. "Edward and I are both extremely grateful for your hospitality."

"Yes, Sir," Edward said, his voice hoarse and low. "Thank you for allowing me to be here for your daughter…and for Jacob."

Charlie cleared his throat once more. "Well, Edward, you'll be sleeping on that there couch. Philip informed us yesterday that due to…all that's occurred, Isabella's school is closed until after the New Year. You're both welcome to stay 'til then, but…I don't think…"

"That's very kind of you, Charlie," Esme offered, "but I do have to return to Washington in a few days. I was hoping to stay until Sunday, if that's alright, perhaps accompany you and Bella to services. After that, I have my return ticket for the afternoon."

"That'll be just fine," Charlie agreed. "Edward, you should be fine 'til Sunday then. It's a small couch, but since it's only for a few nights…"

Edward's shoulders lay stiff and rigid, barely moving though his labored breathing. From the angle in which I sat, I could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Yes…Sir," he finally responded.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, standing on shaky legs and grabbing the half-full pitcher of iced tea so quickly that a few drops spilled out from over the rim. "I'll go make some more tea."

Esme quickly engaged Charlie in conversation, and as I made my way out of the front parlor, I heard footsteps following behind me. When I set the pitcher down in the sink, Edward whipped me around, gripping my shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've never asked you to write that damn letter."

"_I_ wrote the letter, Edward," I hissed, the tears I'd withheld for days burning my throat like a scorching wildfire. "And what was I supposed to do? Let him come home thinking-" I shook my head vehemently. "He had to know. It was the way it had to be."

"I'm sorry." He shut his eyes tight. "I'm so sorry…"

"For what?" I asked, choking on the two words because I already knew, of course. I'd known the moment he'd stalked to the window and hung his head, looking so damned stricken and…guilty. "What did you do, Edward? What did you _do_?"

Yet he refused to open…to let me see it in his eyes.

"I promised you once that I'd never ask you to be less than what you wanted to be," I reminded him, my voice shaking so badly I could barely understand myself. "I told you that I loved you for all that you were and all that you wanted to be."

When he finally reopened his eyes, they were full of so much anguish and self-reproach it made me cringe.

"You're my life, Bella!" he hissed, grabbing my arms. "I wake up with you on my mind! I go to bed with you on my mind! You're my _life!_"

I searched his eyes for one long moment, unsure as to what I was even looking for; perhaps some sort of explanation. Something that would reconcile those words with what he was doing. "Couldn't you have waited? A few weeks…a month? Papa Phil said-"

"This has nothing to do with Philip, Bella! This is about us: Our lives! Our decisions!"

"I wouldn't have asked you not to go! I wouldn't have tried to make that decision for you!"

His fingers forged deeper into my skin as if somehow that would make it easier for me to understand. "Every decision I make, Bella, is with you in mind!"

"This decision had nothing to do with me!"

"This decision had _everything_ to do with you! And as soon as I got off that train, as soon as I saw you, I knew I'd made the right one."

It was too much. I tried to pull away, struggling against him, but he cradled my face between his hands, forcing me to hold his gaze, forcing himself to see the pain he was causing.

"You're breaking my heart," I breathed, much as I'd told him that summer when to avoid exactly what was happening now, he'd chosen Jessica as his girl and given her his first kiss.

His face crumbled then, eyes growing dark with shame, but I could've no more held the words back now than I could've then.

"Bella, I enlisted before coming here not because I thought you'd try to stop me, but because _I_ could've never made myself do it afterwards. After seeing you," he uttered raggedly, his own solitary tear slowly trekking its way down a cheek full of day-old stubble, "after touching your soft skin again," - he drew in an uneven breath - "after breathing your air...and I had to do it, Bella. I _have_ to go."

"_Why_?" I asked brokenly.

"Damn it, because I _love you_. Because I love you, and I want more than this for you," he murmured while the pads of his thumbs wiped away the moisture in my eyes. "Jesus, Bella, I don't want your tears anymore. I don't want your heart breaking. I don't want you wondering if you're safe or where you're safe." He gave me a smile full of anguish. "I don't want us to build a family that'll never know the peace and happiness we once knew as kids."

"But all I need is you, Edward," I said, while the tears flowed silently. "That's all I've ever needed."

"And I've always needed to keep you safe!"

I couldn't refute him. It was something I'd always known since the moment he'd pulled me out of that river. Yet reaching up, I pulled his hands off of me because I couldn't think, I couldn't focus when he was holding me so tightly.

"At least admit it wasn't all for me. Admit you've wanted this since before you even met me."

He held my gaze. "Yes, it was something I _wanted_ before I met you, but now it's something I _have_ to do.

I shut my eyes. "At this point, that distinction makes little difference."

"Bella, just say the word. Just tell me you can't let me go, and I'll call your stepfather and ask for his help. Just say the word."

"Jesus, Edward," I snorted, "you can't put this on me. I'm not a child you can manipulate."

I gasped when he drew me to him again, his arms locking around me so that I could barely breathe.

"I'm not trying to manipulate you, but tell me how to explain it, Bella!" he pleaded. "How do I make you understand that nothing in this world - not money, not school, not your parents nor mine, and not this goddamned war, _nothing_ means more to me than you? I'm not doing this for glory, but simply because it's something I _have_ to do! How do I explain it? How-"

"Shh," I cradled his face between my hands, standing on my tip-toes so that I could press my mouth to his. "Shh."

_I won't ever ask you to be less than what you want to be. _

"Bella…" he pleaded against my mouth. "Please, Bella…_please_…"

"Shh, I _do_ understand." I pulled away and smiled, even as the tears continued to fall. Reaching up, I tried to smooth the sharp lines marring his forehead. He was going…he was leaving me for war, and I'd be damned if I wasted our time fighting. Instead, I'd give him this little bit of peace hidden within a mountain of lunacy.

The rest of my shattered heart I'd deal with later.

"I do understand because I feel the same way. And I understand that's it's something you have to do. I've always known that. I just…I hoped it wouldn't be so soon."

He locked me in his tight embrace once more, opening my mouth with his and forcing his tongue inside, molding it around mine and his hands around my hips. I curved my hand around his nape and held him pressed to me while our breaths and tongues mingled with a crushing desperation. His groans reverberated deep within my soul, and somewhere inside, I noted that if nothing else, if the rest of the world had suddenly gone insane, if nothing would ever be the same again…this…this…_passion_ was the same. We had _this_.

Sighing, he rested his forehead on mine, and for a few, long seconds, we simply held each other's eyes while our breathing regulated.

"When are you leaving?"

"I've got to report for basic training at Sheppard Field in Texas by nine p.m. Monday, which means I've got to leave here Saturday morning."

"Two days?" I whispered in disbelief. "You'll only be here for two days?"

His head bobbed up and down. "I leave the day after tomorrow."

I dropped my gaze to his chest to hide the horror in my features, but Edward quickly lifted my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Bella, how do I take care of you? How do I-"

"Shh, it's okay. Edward…I'll be okay. I've got my dad and your mom here. I'll be okay."

He searched my eyes, and then abruptly grabbed my hands, cocooning them within his and kissing them hard.

"You're my rock, Bella," he said through gritted teeth. "You're my heart. My very soul…"

"Okay," I agreed breathlessly. "Okay, I'll be your rock, Edward."

And I meant it with all my heart. I'd be strong. I'd be his rock even if it felt as if that rock was being pounded to pieces on the inside, thrown against a wall to fracture into a thousand pieces.

"I'll be your rock."

##########

"You let him go," Olivia murmurs. "It was killing you, but you let him go."

"I let him go," I breathe. "I loved him too much to turn him into something he wasn't…so I let him go."

##########

That night, once Esme's quiet, even breathing had leveled out and the moon shone high from the window in a clear, peaceful sky that belied the true world below it, I silently made my way out of my bedroom, closing the door carefully behind me and padded on bare feet into the cold, dark parlor.

He must've sensed me coming. Perhaps, like me, dark thoughts that slithered through his head like poisonous snakes had kept him awake through the long, last few nights. Perhaps the discomfort of the old, creaky couch on which he slept made it hard for him to get the rest he needed.

Or perhaps, like me, there was simply no way he would get any rest that night without having me in his arms.

Either way, he sat up when he heard me approaching. The light cast by the freshly fallen snow illuminated him in an unearthly glow, and when he held out his hand, I went to him as I'd always gone to him...as I would _always_ go to him.

My nightgown rode up over my thighs as I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, rubbing my cold nose against his. Edward's hands caressed my legs and thighs smoothly, his fingers like fiery, demanding brands over my skin while we rocked and moved together. In the moonlight, I could see the wet tracks under his eyes, and I brushed my lips over them, silencing his tortured thoughts with heady kisses and heavy breaths in the stillness of the small house.

"I'm a selfish bastard, but don't leave me, Bella," he pleaded hoarsely. "No matter where I am. No matter what anyone says. You've always been meant for me. Only me."

"Always," I promised. "No matter where you are, only you."

He lay back down, spooning me against him over the small, tight couch. And with his heart beating quickly and safely against my back and his arms wrapped possessively around me, we closed our eyes and for a short while, drifted into a world where we were back by the river, where there was no war - where nothing could ever take us away from each other.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 36: You Don't Know What Love Is (1941) by Billie Holiday:**

_**You don't know what love is  
**__**Until you've learned the meaning of the blues  
**__**Until you've loved a love you've had to lose  
**__**You don't know what love is**__**  
**_

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

*** I will TRY to update on Thursday this week, but things are really busy at home. If I can't I'll see you guys next Monday! ***


	36. Chapter 35 - Rational

**A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely thoughts. I was finally able to get to reviews this weekend! Loved talking to some of you. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 35 - Rational**

"Lord, into your hands is his soul delivered. May he rest forever in your peace."

Murmured "Amens," reciprocated the reverend's plea, resounding like an echo off of the snow-laden trees and all around the overpopulated field of headstones. Despite the snow still on the ground, the sun shone brightly that early afternoon way up in the center of a resplendent sky almost defiant in its bluish hue. Yet the landscape before us would've been a dull tri-tone of black, white and grey if it weren't for the beautifully impressive collection of floral arrangements Papa Phil had contributed as a way of paying his and Mother's respects.

Nevertheless, the frigid wind that seeped through our coats and bit into our skin served as a reminder that despite the vibrant sun and colorful flowers, it was still a very cold December day.

After a few moments of reflective silence, one of the young naval officers lifted a bugle to his mouth and, pointing it at the insubordinate sun, expelled a long, heavy breath into the instrument, flexing his fingers into the melancholic notes honoring the fallen.

And while releasing my own heavy breath, I hung my head and shut my eyes.

"Jacob, I _will_ miss you so very much."

They were merely a handful of whispered words, both poor and ineloquent and so much less than what I owed him, but it didn't make them any less true.

Beside me, Dad gave my hand a tight squeeze, and despite the tears I allowed myself, I managed a small smile for his sake. Regardless of anything else that may have happened in the past few years, Jacob and I had grown up together, and Dad probably knew better than anyone how important he was to me.

Standing to my right, Esme gave my other hand a squeeze, the warmth of her palm filtering into my fingers and up the length of my arm.

Yes, I knew how fortunate I was to have two such wonderful and caring people looking out for me at that very moment, but it was the man standing behind me, his lips softly brushing over the top of my head while his strong chest supported my frame, whose presence I needed more than anyone's.

And in less than twenty-four hours, it was he who'd be leaving me.

OOOOOOOOOO

We held the post-funeral reception at our house instead of at Uncle Billy's because as small as our house was, Billy and Jacob's house was even smaller. As distraught and overwhelmed as Billy was, he was grateful for the fact that Esme and I basically took over the hosting of the mourners. As for me, I was actually quite grateful for the task, since it took my mind off of things I much preferred not to think of. So while Esme and I served small appetizers and drinks, Dad stood stoically by Billy, and Edward took turns between helping us and getting to know those friends with whom Jacob and I had grown up.

At one point, while I was returning with a bottle of Coke for Uncle Billy, I happened to overhear bits and pieces of Edward's quiet conversation with my friend Angela and her husband, Ralph, a man from a neighboring town whom she'd met at a dance social while her beau, Brady, had been off in the Navy. And though Brady had survived the attack on Pearl Harbor, he'd indeed lost the girl.

"…give those Japs hell!" Ralph hissed. "Not just for Jacob, but for all the boys we lost the other day!"

"I plan to," Edward confirmed, his hands deep inside the pockets of his dark blue trousers. Despite the bleakness of the day, I hadn't failed to note just how handsome he looked in his pristine, white dress shirt and dark blue vest, his tie perfectly knotted around his neck and his copper hair carefully brushed back. It had grown a bit since I'd last seen him, the ends brushing just below his neckline. For a few seconds, I stood there remembering just what it felt like to run my fingers through it.

"But now that we're at war with Germany and Italy as well," Edward continued, "I'm not sure if I get to decide where I'm sent."

"Either way, you teach those sons of bitches a lesson!" Ralph growled lowly. "I wish I could go right now too, but…after what happened with Jacob," he whispered, "Angie here is terrified. Begged me not to go until they call me up."

"I can't," Angela said, tears in her voice as she gripped Ralph's arm. "I just can't let him enlist. I begged…_we_ begged them…Jacob and the rest, not to enlist, and that was before we even knew there'd be a war. I can't watch Ralph leave too." When she started crying, Ralph wrapped an arm around her and led her away.

And sensing my eyes on him, Edward turned and met my gaze. For a few, long seconds, we simply stared at one another.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, after all the mourners were gone, Dad took Billy home to help him get settled in the small house to which his son would never return. Esme and I had prepared a few meals for him that would last through the week, and we'd agreed to take turns in the next couple of days to check in on him. Meanwhile, Esme, Edward and I stayed behind to clean up, and while Edward straightened out the parlor, Esme and I cleaned the kitchen.

Don't get me wrong; I was extremely proud of Edward. He'd shown tremendous respect in every possible way today. For Jacob. Yet ever since returning from the cemetery, he and I had barely been in the same room together for more than five minutes at a time. I'd introduced him to everyone, but then while I helped in the kitchen, he moved around the parlor. While I moved around the parlor, he helped in the kitchen. When the small house had been packed to the brim with mourners, it had been easy to disguise, even to pretend that it was just my imagination - that we were both merely busy trying to honor Jacob by doing our best to help out during his memorial. Yet the last time we'd kept this much distance between one another was the summer when he'd courted Jessica, and I couldn't stand to be within ten feet of them without wanting to slap them both.

Now, with nothing more than a little over twelve hours left with each other, it almost felt as if he was already gone.

Once we were done with clean up, the three of us gathered in the small parlor. Esme and I sat on the small couch while Edward awkwardly stood by the window, gazing out at the fading daylight, hands once again deep in his pockets. Esme's eyes trailed from her son back to me, and when she frowned questioningly, I simply gave her a tight smile.

"_The Office of Price Administration announced earlier today that it is halting all sales of tires until a system of tire rationing can be developed…"_

"Why are they going to ration tires?" Esme wondered aloud.

"They'll need the rubber, Mama," Edward said serenely, "for tanks, trucks, planes..."

"Oh. Of course."

When the telephone rang in the kitchen, I excused myself quickly, and following behind me, I heard Edward excuse himself as well. We held each other's gaze while the operator made the connection with Papa Phil in Washington, D.C.

"Papa, Dad and Uncle Billy have asked me to thank you for all your help and for the lovely flowers," I said after we'd made our greetings.

"It's the least I could do," he replied solemnly. "I would've liked to have attended…but I simply had to be here. This war is going to have a profound effect on the day to day operations of the railroad."

"Nothing bad, I hope." My voice emerged as an empty monotone, making it impossible for me to pretend I actually gave a damn about Papa Phil's railroad.

"No, I don't think it'll be bad at all, at least not business-wise, but I realize it's nothing you're interested in discussing at the moment," he responded, as if reading my mind. "Though now that you're getting older, Isabella, I would like to teach you a bit more about the railroad's operations. But that's something we can discuss further when you're ready."

"Yes, Sir," I said dully.

He sighed. "How are Esme and Edward?"

"They're both well, Papa."

"I…" he sighed again, much more deeply this time, sounding more exasperated than fatigued. "I spoke to Carlisle yesterday and was informed that both Edward and his brother, Masen, have enlisted."

Edward and I locked eyes. "Yes. Edward is leaving tomorrow morning for basic training in Texas."

Papa Phil expelled a heavy breath. "Isabella, may I please speak to Edward if he's nearby?"

"He's right here, Papa Phil. Please hold on." I held the mouth piece and receiver out to Edward.

With his own heavy breath, he closed the distance between us, standing so close that his strong chest pressed against my much softer one. And though I knew that manners dictated I move away and give them privacy as they spoke, I didn't budge an inch. Instead, I tilted back my head so that I could continue holding his gaze as he spoke to Papa Phil, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Esme standing quietly by the threshold.

"Yes, Sir," Edward said in greeting.

"Edward," Papa Phil's tone was much harder than it had just been with me. "I'll cut right to the chase. I specifically told you that you and your brother were not to make any hasty decisions before we could all-"

"With all due respect, Sir, whatever decisions Masen and I make have nothing to do with you."

"They have everything to do with me!" Papa Phil bellowed so loudly that I jerked back my head. "Never mind the damn scholarship, your decisions have everything to do with me when _you_ are courting my daughter! My God, your brother has a child on the way! What were you two thinking?"

When Edward responded, his voice was calm and respectful – yet full of an undeniable fire.

"A child that his wife is now terrified of bringing into this world. And it's _his_ responsibility, it's _all_ our responsibility to make sure that those we love," he hissed, his eyes firmly on mine, "have a safe world to live in. It's _our_ responsibility to make this right-"

Papa Phil chuckled, but even over the telephone wires, I could hear the lack of humor in it. "Edward, Son, you're full of such a naïve ideology on the absolute definitions of right versus wrong, but let me be the first to point out to you, if no one else has, that it's ideology which has gotten us into this mess in the first place. Ideology has convinced entire masses of people that their version of right and wrong is absolute with no thought to rationality or common sense or to the benefits of argument and logic. And it's only _our_ ability to hold rational arguments and to think calmly and rationally that will get us out of this mess! You could've both made a difference in other ways! You could've remained stateside and-"

"And what," Edward retorted, "pushed around pencils, checked off boxes and filled out forms while others go over there and do the real dirty work? I'm sorry, Sir, but while that may be your way of making a difference, of thinking _rationally_, it's not mine."

"I served in the previous war, young man," Papa Phil seethed, "just as your father did, and just as Isabella's birth father did, so don't speak to me as if I've been sitting behind a desk my entire life while others got their hands dirty! And I'll tell you something else whether you want to hear it or not, the man you are when you leave will _not_ be the man you are when you return! You won't know what the hell you want when you return, _if_ you return, and I don't want Isabella put through any of that!"

I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly.

"What does she say about all this?" Papa Phil asked.

"I've-"

Edward shook his head and held my gaze firmly. "Again, Sir, with all due respect, the discussions between Bella and I will remain between her and me. What's more, while I don't know what your experience was, I do know one thing: nothing, not this war nor anything else, will _ever_ take priority over Bella. I will _always_ want her, regardless of whatever happens; that will never change. You want to call that naïve ideology, that's your right, but I call it truth."

A heavy silence filled the static air between the telephone lines. I reached up and cupped Edward's cheek, smiling at him. I'd promised to be his rock, and I would be.

He leaned into my hand and expelled a heavy breath full of relief.

When Papa Phil spoke again, he simply sounded tired.

"I've spoken to the university and have been informed that you did contact the record's department regarding your transcript and having it mailed to Sheppard Base."

"Yes, Sir, I did," Edward confirmed.

"Had you and your brother remained in school and waited to earn your degrees, _you_ would've automatically entered the service as a Lieutenant, and he would've entered as a doctor. Now because of your incomplete transcript, _you_ will have to qualify for officer training, and your brother - if he's determined to be a combat medic, will never make officer."

"Neither Masen nor I have ever had a problem with starting at the bottom. Nothing wrong with a good, clean fight. It's how our Pop brought us up."

Papa Phil snorted. "It figures." He drew in another audible breath. "Very well. You've both made your decision. I truly hope neither one of you regrets it. And I hope to God your mother never has to…" he trailed off. "Now, if Isabella is still standing next to you, I'd like you to please ask her to step away. I've one more thing to tell you before you're off to basic."

I could tell by his expression that Edward's control over his temper was slipping, yet he kissed the top of my head tenderly and murmured, "Go over there with Momma."

"No."

"Bella, please."

"No."

"Fine, fine," Papa Phil said rather impatiently. "Let her remain if she must. I just want to make one thing clear: her life won't stop because you're gone. She'll finish high school, attend college, and if she gives her heart to someone else while you're away, then that's something you'll have to deal with. What's more, she's not eighteen yet, and I won't agree to a rushed marriage."

A surge of heated blood rushed to my face. "Papa Phil, you can't stop-" I began, but Edward cut me off once more.

"Sir, I have no plans to rush her into marriage, nor do I expect her life to stop," he said, holding my gaze. "I want it to continue as well – no matter what."

And with that, I pulled away from Edward and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Bella!" he called. "Bella, wait!"

Charlie had apparently returned and was standing next to Esme. I rushed past them and to the door.

"Where are you going, Isabella?" my dad asked.

Without an answer, I reached for the door, and when I opened it, the cold air rushed over my skin, crawled over exposed arms and legs and numbed them almost instantly. I gasped and shut the door behind me, welcoming the desensitization, closing my eyes and filling my lungs with it even as my extremities tightened and dulled to pain.

Then I started running down the quiet, evening street.

"Bella!"

I picked up my pace when I heard him behind me, focusing on the way my breath swirled before me like a light, mountainous mist, breaking into a sprint despite the snow on the ground and my woefully inadequate shoes.

"Damn it, Bella, don't run from me!" he ordered.

"Leave me alone!"

He caught me quickly, of course.

He had those long legs, much stronger and faster than mine. When his hand wrapped around my wrist, it sent streaks of heat racing up my arm despite his cold fingers. He swung me around, quickly covering me with his own coat. But I refused to look up at him, to look into those evergreen eyes that had always refused to do things the easy way.

"Bella, please, I'm-"

"Jacob and I used to do that when we were little kids."

Strangely enough, I found myself smiling as I looked out at the almost empty, snow-covered street with matching, small houses going up and down the block. There were two children playing just a few feet away, the only two other souls out there, braving the cold to make snowballs.

"When the streets were full of snow like this, we'd spend hours making snowballs and throwing them at one another. We wouldn't go back inside until one of our parents came out threatening us with tales of toes and fingers freezing and falling off. Then in the summer…he liked to play Lone Ranger, but when he played with the rest of the boys, they always made him Tonto. So he and I would play by ourselves, and I'd let him be the Lone Ranger. We'd run and shoot our guns, and when the rest of the kids came out to play, we'd hide the guns because the Lone Ranger was only our game," I grinned.

Edward was silent.

"When I was only here for the summers, we'd get Dad or Billy to open up that fire hydrant." I pointed at the hydrant just a few feet from my house. "Mother never approved of my jumping around, and now that she wasn't here…" I smiled. "She would've fainted dead away had she seen me abusing all those pretty dresses."

"When you were younger," Edward said, taking a step closer to me, "and we used to play in the river, you used to take off your dresses so you wouldn't get them dirty."

"I was…different with Jacob. He never saw me as Isabella Dwyer. I was always Isabella Swan to him, and…I wanted to keep it that way."

Out of my periphery, I saw him nod, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You were comfortable with him."

I nodded.

"When we got older, we'd sit on the porch," – I looked over at the small porch of my dad's house – "and he'd tell me all about his year while we played marbles or Monopoly and Uncle Billy and Dad talked baseball and had a couple of beers. One summer, we went to the movies and watched _The Bride of Frankenstein,_ and he teased me mercilessly for days," I chuckled.

His next step brought Edward right before me. Swallowing audibly, he reached out and with his finger under my chin, gently nudged my head up, yet I still couldn't meet his gaze.

"And then…" he whispered, "there was the summer he was your beau."

I nodded slowly. "Yes. There was that summer. And now he's gone, and…it's hard for me to believe that when I look around here and see all these places where we spent our time."

"You…loved him, and his death…it's hurting you," he said solemnly.

"Yes," I nodded. "I loved him, and I'm hurting. I'm hurting so much that it's hard to swallow when I stop to think that I'll never see him again."

Once more, I filled my lungs with the cold air surrounding me, and now, I was finally ready to meet his eyes.

"Yet I'll survive him, and I'll survive his death even though almost everywhere I look around here, I see him. But Edward…" – I reached out and placed my cold hand under his open vest, over his quickly beating heart – "the day your heart stops, whether it's tomorrow or fifty, sixty, seventy years from now, I won't survive it, and I won't be far behind."

"Bella, don't say that."

"Why not?" I demanded. "It's the truth. You have to go, and I understand that. But I won't let you leave without knowing what you're taking with you. I'll finish high school while you're gone. I'll start college. I'll even smile and laugh and do the things young women my age and in my position have the privilege to do, but neither you nor Papa Phil have any right to dictate the rest. My heart _will_ be with you, and I _will_ be waiting."

He crushed me to him then, and all my breath left me in one, long rush. His arms tightened possessively around my back, hands losing themselves in my hair as his mouth eagerly sought out mine.

"Then wait for me, Bella," he breathed over my lips, his hands urgently sliding around my neck to hold me in place. "Wait for me because unlike Jacob and unlike Brady with your friend Angela, I _will_ be back for you. I _will_ be back."

"You'd better be because you promised me once that you'd take care of my heart, and I'm holding you to that promise."

This time, he took my mouth with an almost bruising force, and I whimpered quietly, though I refused to cry. Instead, I dug my fingernails deep into his chiseled shoulders, making him groan while our tongues and mouths moved fervently and frenziedly, healing and punishing each other at the same time.

OOOOOOOOOO

Afterwards, Edward and I strolled around the neighborhood. Pulled tightly into his side with his arm wrapped around my shoulder, I barely felt the cold. And since I was wearing his coat, I tried to keep him warm by circling both of my arms around his narrow waist, under his vest. The periodic kisses and brushes of our lips against one another's also helped to ward off the chill.

I pointed out other spots of interest to him: the tree from which Jacob and the rest of the neighborhood boys used to climb and throw pebbles at the girls, the street where Dad taught me to ride a bicycle, the spot where I fell off that bicycle at age seven and got the small scar still on my knee, and the place where I remembered last seeing my favorite pair of gloves when I was ten. Then I had to endure Mother's scolding when I returned to New York because Mother had purchased those gloves in Paris. We both chuckled when I confessed I'd always suspected that Angela had pilfered those, but I had no way to prove it.

Edward listened patiently to all my stories, and afterwards we sat on the porch for a few, short minutes, but it was growing later and colder, and despite how hard we may have tried, we couldn't keep the evening at bay. So under a moonless sky, he held my face tenderly and kissed me softly and quietly. And then we walked back into the house.

Yet I had no intention of staying away from Edward until morning, especially since it would be our last night together for…God knew how long. I planned to make the most of it…in every way.

But plans have a way of going awry, as I was slowly beginning to learn. I was more than a bit startled when after bidding Edward an extremely chaste goodnight in front of his mother and my father and beginning my ascent up the stairs, Charlie cleared his throat and announced,

"With all that's happened, I'll be in the kitchen 'til late tonight, thinking and pondering. Hope I don't disturb you too much with the light, Edward, but I believe I should be ready for bed sometime before sunrise."

"Uhm…that should be no problem, Sir."

And, swallowing thickly, I resumed my climb up the stairs.

Nevertheless, young, in love, and desperate, I wasn't ready to give up. Much later that night in my room, while lying still and silent in the small bed I was sharing with Esme, I quietly attempted to vacate said bed, lifting myself up on one elbow and then slowly edging one leg off of the mattress...

"Are you okay, Bella?" Esme asked. "Do you need anything?"

Sighing, I lay back down. "No, Esme. Thank you. I'm fine."

A half hour or so later, I made another escape attempt. This time, I managed to get both legs off the mattress...

"Bella? Is there something you need? Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

Frustration made my skin prickle. "No, thank you, Esme. I'm just…trying to get comfortable."

"Alright, Sweetheart. I'm right here if you need me, and your father is downstairs if you need him."

And with a painful ache that radiated throughout my entire chest, I was forced to accept that I wouldn't be sleeping anywhere other than my bed that night. Releasing a long breath through narrowed lips, I stared up at the ceiling until a hint of light filtered in through the shuttered windows. And when I heard Charlie's heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs, I closed my eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Esme and I were taking Edward to the Union Street Terminal. Dad was going to check on Billy and spend the day with him.

We were in the parlor, and Dad held out his hand to Edward, who took it in a tight grip while both men held each other's gazes.

"Thank you, Sir, for your hospitality, and thank you for Bella. I want you to know that she's the most important thing in the world to me."

I watched Dad's Adam's apple bob. "It was good to meet you, Edward, and…just so you know, I'm of the opinion that a good man fights for what he deems important," he said firmly. "No matter what anyone tells you, there _is_ a clear definition between right and wrong," he sneered, "and sometimes…sometimes we lose sight of that. Sometimes we think it's better to simply appease and think _rationally_, and we give up the fight too easily and too quickly, and when we want to fight again, it's too late. Only then do we realize we've let down those who depended on us the most. You give the good fight, Son, and _earn_ the love and respect of those who are yours."

"I will, Sir. Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOO

We stood on the platform to Terminal Six at Union Station waiting for the Missouri-Pacific Railway's Train Number 152, which would take Edward from Illinois into Missouri, through Arkansas and Oklahoma, and then into Dallas, Texas, where he would switch over to a local steam-line into Wichita Falls. Finally, he'd take a bus to the relatively new Sheppard Air Base.

It was cold, and though I wore a long, wool coat made from the best sheep's fur and a soft, red knit hat and matching gloves, I couldn't stop shivering.

"Edward, Honey, did you bring your warm socks and long-johns in case it gets very cold?" Esme asked as we idled near the staircase. I caught Edward's eye and smiled to myself at the smirk on his face.

"I did, Momma, but I believe it's warmer in Texas than it is in Washington or Illinois. Besides, they told us not to bring too much with us. They'll give us what we need."

"Oh. Of course," she said quietly, and then, almost as if she couldn't help herself, she reached up and cradled his cheek in her hand. "My boy."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and looked away, murmuring, "I'm…going to the newsstand."

As I walked, I realized that Esme must've already said goodbye to Masen before coming here. Self-absorbed with my own concerns, I hadn't even bothered to stop and think of those she'd left behind in Washington to come to me, or of the fact that now, she had to say goodbye to her youngest son, and neither one of us knew when we'd see him next.

Filled with guilt, I looked back, and through the billowing smoke of the arriving train, I saw the silhouette of a real and true mother, crying quietly yet still trying to smile bravely while her son rested his hands on her shoulders, his mouth moving softly around words I was confident were meant to reassure her. She threw her arms around him then, and he held on to her just as tightly for a few seconds before she pulled away and, shoulders as firm and straight as her son's, walked in my direction, drying her eyes with a handkerchief.

"He's waiting for you, Sweetheart," she smiled at me.

I nodded.

The train pulled in leisurely, its loud whistle announcing its presence to all who waited. And as I glanced around, I saw the same scene replayed from corner to corner: crying women clinging to their departing men.

And for one fleeting moment, I saw myself running, escaping that train station so that I wouldn't have to do this, so that I could stop this moment from coming.

But Edward waited, his eyes on me, suitcase at his side and his hands in his pockets.

Somehow, I forced my legs to move, and he smiled wistfully at me as I neared, drawing in a deep breath that made his strong chest expand. When I finally reached him, he took his hands out of his pockets and curved them around my waist.

"I'm sorry," I said in a strangled whisper, hanging my head. "We only had a few hours left yesterday evening, and I wasted them all by talking to you about Jacob. I'm so sorry."

He surprised me with a quiet chuckle and drew me in closer. "Sweetheart, that's what I was here for: to be anything you needed me to be; to hear anything you needed to say. Besides, no time with you could ever be a waste. I learned that three summers ago when you decided not to go to Forks, and I was terrified you'd never come back to me, and I'd never get the chance to prove to you that despite how much I'd hurt you, I really did love you." He skimmed one finger across my cheek and sighed. "Seems like I'm always trying to prove how much I love you despite how much I hurt you."

When I still couldn't meet his gaze, he slid his hands around my neck and guided my head upwards. "Let me see those beautiful, golden eyes." He smiled when our eyes met. "There they go."

I grinned despite the fissure running through my chest.

"You know," he said quietly, "I almost came to Chicago that summer."

"You did?"

He nodded. "I was saving up, and I was going to come and tell you that you'd been wrong not to return to Forks, not to give me a chance to apologize for the previous summer, but then…"

"Then…?" I prompted with a raised brow.

"Then…I realized there was a better way to convince you that my love for you was true and genuine. I decided that I'd keep saving, and I'd go to college the following year, and when you were old enough to make the decision on your own, I'd ask you to be my wife."

The tears fell unchecked.

"Bella," he said shakily, holding me closer still, "we didn't have just a few hours left last night. We have an entire _lifetime_ left, and I won't say it now not because I fear you'll give your heart away while I'm gone, but because when I do ask, I don't want your memory of it to be tainted by thoughts of Jacob's death or funeral or of my hasty departure. It'll be a good day, Bella…" – his voice broke – "It'll be a good day when I ask."

I don't know if he pulled me in or if I pulled him in, but his mouth crashed over mine, and he devoured my breaths while hungrily tasting my lips and demanding my tongue. And I gave him my all as I always would. Always.

"It will be a good day," I agreed against his sweet mouth, kissing him over and over. "And I'll say yes. Always know that: I'll say yes."

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, grinning. And when he pulled back, his misty eyes remained on mine.

"I think it'll be a few months before I leave the U.S.," he said quickly because the frenzy all around us was multiplying by the second. Most of the passengers getting off here had already done so, and little by little, those departing were boarding. "There's four to six weeks of basic, after which they'll send me somewhere else depending on what I qualify for. I'll write you, Sweetheart, and let you know where I am."

"All aboard!"

"Can I visit you?" I asked anxiously.

"I don't know, Sweetheart, but I'll let you know soon as I find out!"

The steam whistle blew its warning, and I held on to him tighter.

"Edward, please be careful!"

He grinned and kissed me again. "I will be. I promise. And please, Baby, take care of yourself too."

I nodded while silent tears streamed down my face.

"Steamer 152 on its way to give the Japs and Nazis hell via Mansfield, Little Rock, Tulsa and Dallas!" bellowed one of the porters as he hung out of the train car. "Kiss your mommas and hug your dames cuz next time you see 'em 'll be the end of the game!"

Edward chuckled ruefully as we unwillingly pulled away from one another, slowly but surely until only our linked pinkies kept us joined.

"I love you, Bella!" he grinned. "I'll be thinking of you every moment of every day!"

"I love you, too!" I smiled bravely, yet I couldn't help wincing when we completely lost our physical contact, "from the moment you pulled me out of that river!"

He chuckled, walking backwards until the porter grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him on board.

"Come on, Buddy!" He patted Edward on the shoulder. "Prolonging the goodbye won't make it easier for either of you!"

With a gradual roll of its wheels, the train began to pull away from the station while Edward clung to the door, and I followed.

"True and loyal hearts, Bella!" he called out.

"They never forget!" I responded.

And then the train whistled its way down the tracks, growing smaller and smaller until it was…gone.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 37: **_**Winter Weather**_** (1941) by Jo Stafford (with Paul Weston &amp; His Orchestra):**

_**I love the winter weather  
**__**So the two of us can get together  
**__**There's nothing sweeter, finer  
**__**When it's nice and cold  
**__**I can hold my baby closer to me  
**__**And collect them fine kisses that are due me  
**__**I love the winter weather  
**__**Because I got my love to keep me warm**__**  
**_

**I think we'll have to stick to just Mondays for updates for the foreseeable future, Loves. Things are just too hectic in RL. (Not bad hectic, just hectic). :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Congrats to the Brits on their new Princess: Princess Charlotte Elizabeth Diana!**

**And MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU ALL! ;)**

**See you guys next Monday!**


	37. Chapter 36 - Holidays, 1941 Style

**A/N: Hey All. I'm a bit late this week, but better late than never (I think).**

**Thanks so much for all your continued thoughts.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 36 – Holidays, 1941 Style**

* * *

##########

Two matching sets of sky blue eyes gaze up at me, glassy and glistening at the corners. Pretty, violet-tinted lips quiver from their attempt to hold back emotions I can clearly read.

"He left," Skye murmurs. "He got on that train and just…left. I was sure he'd changed his mind at the last minute, and he'd jumped off of that train, run back to you and had gone to basic training later, after the holidays at least."

"Ugh, it wasn't a stupid, fake, romance movie, Skye!" Olivia exclaims with an eye roll. "It was real life!" Then she frowns. "But it's true, Nana; he left when you needed him the most. Jacob had just been…_killed_ at Pearl Harbor, and the war was no longer thousands of miles away. How could he leave you then?"

"He left _because_ the war was no longer thousands of miles away," I explain. "He left _because_ Jacob had been killed."

"No."

Skye, usually the calmer, more patient of my twin great-granddaughters shakes her head vehemently from side to side.

"No. I mean, I understand his reasoning. I just don't know if I buy it."

"The thing is, Sweetheart," I smile, "sometimes it's not a matter of _buying it_; it's not a matter of agreeing or even completely understanding. Sometimes…" I draw in a deep breath, "sometimes it's just a matter of learning to stand on your own two feet, of finding the strength within _yourself_ to go on with your days because the world doesn't stop – even when your heart feels as if it has."

##########

And so the world continued spinning on that cold, December day in 1941. Edward boarded a train headed for Texas, and the nations of Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria declared war on the United States. They were just a few of the many Axis allies that would do so in a month's time, a month during which the Japanese took Wake Island, an American-held island in the Pacific while fighting to take control of the Philippines. In Europe, the Nazi's attempt to take control of Moscow had come to a standstill just outside of the city. The extreme cold of a Russian winter had taken the Nazi army by surprise, yet the German war machine raged on, surrounding the city of Leningrad and closing off its food supplies, guaranteeing death to thousands of people within.

But now, the war was no longer something that was simply happening abroad.

During that historic December of '41, for the first time ever, a British Prime Minister addressed a joint session of the U.S. Congress. Elated and relieved to finally have the U.S. in the war, Churchill flashed his pointer and middle finger up in a "V" for Victory sign and assured the public that together, we would be victorious; though, in his defense, he did warn that this victory would be neither quick nor easy, and we'd need to hunker down for some major changes - some which became apparent mere days later.

For example, the production of tires and automobiles came to a halt almost immediately after Pearl Harbor so that auto factories could begin their conversion to the production of military equipment. War bonds sales, which had already begun before our entry into the war, really took off. Dim-outs and brown-outs became nightly mandates along the U.S. coasts to prevent more Japanese attacks on our home front. Civilian guards as well as Air Raid Wardens were urgently asked to take up positions.

And on the day after Edward left for Texas, Esme, Charlie and I sat around the breakfast table eating pancakes and listening to radio reports about another British ship sunk by a German U-boat. I remember thinking about the fact that pretty soon, it would be American warships in those desperate fights with German U-boats.

"Since I'm still within enlistment age, I looked into re-enlisting in the Navy yesterday," Charlie said off-handedly, "but I was told that they probably wouldn't take me on account of my bad arm from that other war. So instead, it was suggested to me that I sign up to be an Air Raid warden, which I've done." He took a bite from his pancakes.

I stared at him while my own pancake piece dangled at the end of my fork.

"You always said you hated the war. You said you'd rather help shape young people's minds than destroy them."

"And I still believe that, Isabella," he said evenly. "But sometimes our beliefs and our duties don't exactly match. Either way, it makes no difference. I'll have to satisfy myself with being an Air Raid Warden."

For one long minute, our eyes remained locked until Esme's warm hand reached out and covered mine over the small table.

I set down my fork. "I'm going back to Washington - to Forks, until school reopens in January."

Esme turned startled eyes towards me, but as Charlie set down his own utensils, he seemed unsurprised by my declaration. I could see it in his eyes - in the way he looked right through me that he'd already known I was leaving…maybe even before I'd known it.

You see, I was no longer Isabella Swan, yet neither was I Isabella Dwyer. I'd lived the past few years of my life in an in-between existence, never fully one or the other. The only place I'd ever felt I truly belonged had been in Edward's arms.

Now _he_ was off to Texas.

I voiced my plans as I formulated them. "I'll leave tomorrow with Esme. But Esme," – I quickly looked at her – "please don't feel obligated in any way. I'll speak to Papa Phil about allowing me to stay in the-"

"Bella," she smiled tenderly, "as long as Charlie is in agreement, you're not only welcome to stay with us, but I rather insist you do so."

And I was grateful for her understanding because as tempted as I may have been to stay and allow memories of Jacob to overwhelm me while thoughts of Edward paralyzed me, I was also terrified of doing so. When Mother had been just slightly older than I, she'd given into her greatest fear and married my dad in order to have more than what she'd known. Then, during the Depression, she'd given into that fear once more, terrified that life as she knew it in Chicago would be all she'd ever know.

Yes, Edward assured me constantly that I wasn't like Mother, but he didn't know how hard I fought that panic - that fear that must've just consumed her enough to walk away not once, but twice. And while my fear had nothing to do with money or power or position, and despite how little I still knew of myself on that December day, I did know one thing: if I ever gave in to my greatest fear, then I'd be just as lost as she still was.

OOOOOOOOOO

As I'd expected, Papa Phil had no objection to me going back to Forks with Esme. He spoke to her the night before to set up the logistics, and his only insistence was that I return in time to spend New Year's Eve with Mother and him.

As I wouldn't be with Edward for the holidays, I really didn't care where I spent them.

Unsure as to how or when I'd be in touch with Edward, I asked Dad to let Edward know, if he happened to call, that I'd gone home with his mom for Christmas.

So after a long, two and a half day ride on the _Union Builder_, Esme and I arrived at the Seattle terminal where Carlisle and Jasper awaited us both with welcoming smiles. Nevertheless, I could see the deep lines marring Carlisle's forehead, lines that hadn't been there before. And there was stiffness to Jasper's usually minor limp - a sharper, more pronounced shuffle to his gait, that hadn't been there before either.

On the train ride over, Esme told me that when Masen and Jasper went to the Army recruiting office, Jasper had been turned away – 4F due to the one leg he'd been born with that was shorter than the other, a slight imperfection that had never held him back, never made him weaker or slower than Edward or Masen. Yet it was enough to keep him out of the war.

Carlisle hugged both Esme and I simultaneously, wrapping one arm around each of us before pulling away.

"Charlie called. He said Edward called over there last evening."

My heart gave a thrilled jump.

"What did he say?" Esme asked.

"Is he okay? Is everything alright?" I questioned quickly.

"He's fine," Carlisle reassured us. "He arrived with no issues. They've assigned him to barracks, given him a head-shave," he smiled, "but he won't be able to make another phone call for a few weeks."

"Does he have an address where we can write him?"

"No, Sweetheart," Carlisle shook his head apologetically. "He can send out mail, but he's not allowed to receive correspondence for the first few weeks. It's the same with Masen."

My lungs constricted. Somewhere between Chicago and Washington, I'd missed my chance to speak to him, to hear his voice, and now I wouldn't even be able to write with him for at least a few weeks.

OOOOOOOOOO

Eight years old now, Sandy's sprint to me as I emerged from Carlisle's Model A Ford was noticeably slower, her pants heavier and longer, but she still greeted me with the same childlike enthusiasm she'd possessed since the first summer Edward had volunteered to keep her for me.

"My sweet girl," I cooed as I knelt in front of her onto the stiff, brown grass. "Yes, Mama's here." She whimpered, almost sounding confused – which made me chuckle. "Yes, I know it's puzzling to see me here now, but it's a strange, strange world lately." I sighed as I ran my hand over her soft fur.

Ever well-behaved and trained, Gus waited patiently at her side, and then once Sandy seemed to have had her fill of attention, he stuck out his tongue and licked my face, making me giggle aloud for the first time in days.

"Yes, yes," I laughed, holding him and trying to control his enthusiasm before he knocked me on my behind. "I missed you too, Gus."

I met Rose on the porch steps and hugged her tightly while being mindful of her still non-existent belly.

"I don't see or feel anything," I frowned teasingly, rubbing her stomach. "Are you sure there's a baby in there?"

She chuckled. "I'm barely twelve weeks along, Bella! I won't be showing for a while yet – which may be the only good thing about Masen being gone. He won't see me grow so fat."

We laughed though we both knew Masen wouldn't have minded watching her grow at all.

"Fine. I'll take your word for it that there's actually someone growing in there. Where's Alice?"

"She's waiting for you by the tree."

I turned around and squinted my eyes against the setting sun. Despite how much more relaxed I'd felt since setting foot on Cullen property, seeing the magnificent evergreen in the cold and brown landscape of winter made my chest ache.

"I'll take your bags up to Alice's old room," Jasper volunteered.

"Thanks, but…" – I looked at Esme and Carlisle – "if it's okay, may I stay in Edward's room? I don't think he'd mind."

Esme and Carlisle looked at one another for one long moment, communicating silently before Esme gave me a warm smile full of understanding.

"I don't think he'd mind either. That should be just fine."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice slowly swung herself back and forth while dry leaves scampered about her feet, propelled into the air by her to and fro motion. Though she had her back to me, I knew she heard my approach, heard the dogs panting and the crunching of the leaves under my feet. Still, I squeezed in next to her wordlessly, smiling at how much harder it was to do so now than it had been four, five, six years ago. Sandy and Gus took up sentry positions a few feet away, giving us room to really swing the way we usually did when we met up this way – but not today.

Instead, Alice turned and hugged me, pulling me against her chest and kissing the top of my head.

"I'm so sorry about Jacob," she murmured.

"I know." My arms wrapped around her waist, and I sighed unevenly, resting my head against her soft chest while I listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart. "So am I."

"I wish I could've gone to his funeral."

"It doesn't really matter. He wasn't even there."

"No," she snorted. "I don't suppose he was."

We were both silent for a while until I straightened up and gazed out at the cold and barren winter landscape.

"It feels different being here this time of year. Those trees are missing their leaves."

"Yes, it's bizarre having you here without the warmth of the sun tickling our skin…and with Masen and Edward both far away."

I said nothing.

"Masen was unexpected, but Edward…I always warned you he'd leave, Bella."

For a second, I thought I'd heard something in her tone, something hard simmering underneath all her softness, something almost smug in its reproach. But it'd been a long train ride, and I was both physically and mentally exhausted and most likely imagining things.

"Yes, I suppose we all knew he'd go. He never pretended otherwise. How's Jasper doing?" I asked, anxious to change the topic. "Your mom told me what happened."

With another snort, she met my gaze. "What did she tell you, that he was turned away?"

"Yes, and he was upset about it."

"Upset about it?" She shook her head and slid her eyes away, her small nostrils flaring as her brows furrowed towards the line of naked trees ahead of us – trees that led to the river where all this had first begun.

"I guess that's one way to put it. Masen had to drag him out of that office. Apparently, he was yelling and howling that they were all a bunch of god damn idiots for turning away a man who was well and capable of fighting. He yelled and howled that entire night as a matter of fact. He hasn't really slept much since. We used to make love every night, Bella, but he hasn't touched me since those god damn Japs… Now, he spends the nights pacing back and forth. Last evening, I told him I missed being with him that way, and he said…" – she sneered – "he said I should've held out for a _whole_ man."

"Oh, Alice." I stroked a few strands of her dark, shoulder-length hair, tucking a couple of wayward ones behind her ear. "He'll be okay. He's upset now, but he's home with you…and he's _safe_. That's what matters."

I'd meant my words to be comforting, but the way she looked at me made me suspect I'd been anything but.

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?" I asked, swallowing as I held her gaze because there was definitely something in it: a fire burning - anger I wasn't used to seeing in her. It was similar to that anger I'd seen in Edward's eyes when he'd arrived in Chicago; though his anger had been directed at the horrible people who'd caused this mess.

Yes, Alice, Masen and Edward were all siblings, but sometimes, despite their physical differences, the similarities between her and Edward were so striking that right then, for instance, it was hard for me to look at her.

"He would've preferred to go to war, to serve his country, to join Masen and Edward in avenging what those animals did at Pearl Harbor," she hissed. "Instead, he's stuck here working at a mill and training dogs, and I'm stuck here working at the five and dime. But I'm supposed to tell him that he's safe, and that's what matters. Is that what you're saying?"

"You're his wife, Alice, not me; I honestly have no idea what you're supposed to tell him to make him feel better. Look, it's been a difficult few days for everyone." I stood shakily, thrown off balance by the scathing tone of her voice. "We're all trying to figure out how to deal with everything that's happening."

She pulled me back and hung her head, but I saw the way she squeezed her eyes shut, the remorse coloring her cheeks a deep shade of red.

"Alice…" I cradled her head in my hands. She was my sister at heart, and I could feel her pain as acutely as I felt my own.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bella. I'm just…" She wrapped her arms around me again, and this time, it was her head resting against my chest. "We were left behind, Bella - Jasper and I, shackled to this damn town as if we were those dogs, and I…I've needed you here. I'm glad you came. I'm sorry."

I slid my arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Shh, you weren't left behind. I've needed you too, Ally. And I'm glad I'm here too."

OOOOOOOOOO

Those first few days in Forks were definitely odd not only because of the way everything around us had changed in the past few days, or because I was there during a completely different season from which I was used to being in Washington, but with Edward and Masen away, with Alice living with her husband a couple of miles away, the evenings consisted of Esme, Rose, Carlisle, Sandy and me. Since Masen's departure, Rose had begun staying with Carlisle and Esme again. Pregnant and alone, it made no sense for her to be in that small house that the boys had built over a couple of summers before they wed. And I…well, I didn't have to return to that large mansion across the river every evening.

We had a few peaceful and quiet days, and though I missed Edward terribly, for a couple of hours at a time, I'd find myself forgetting he was off in basic training learning how to fight a war. For a couple of hours here and there, surrounded by an environment where he'd always been just around the bend, I could almost make myself believe that he was working at the mill or helping Carlisle with the animals or off running some errand.

To keep myself busy as the holidays approached, I ran errands and helped out. Carlisle took me into his office and under his wing, teaching me patiently while we talked about Masen and Edward and the adventures they'd had as little boys, back before I appeared at the river on that day long ago.

When I wasn't with Carlisle, Esme, Rose and I would spend hours making the house as festive as possible. Esme taught Rose and I to knit, and Rose attempted a pair of booties for her coming baby while I attempted a scarf for Edward, though I wasn't even sure if or when I'd be able to give it to him.

Alice and Jasper would stop by in the afternoons after work. We'd have supper and talk about what was going on in the news: the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong and Montgomery's British Eighth Army chasing Rommel's German Panzers through North Africa. Then Jasper would spend his evenings on the porch, even though it was pretty cold outside. Sometimes he'd go home early, and Alice would tell me that he'd feel better after he spent some time training his dogs - two German Shepherds he referred to as "Alsatians." He brought the "Alsatians" over one night, even though he preferred to keep them separated from Sandy and Gus. Through the windows fogged up with the winter condensation, I watched Jasper training the dogs, still as fascinated as the way he had with them as I'd been as a little girl. I was awestruck at the way they listened to him, and I itched to join him, to have a closer look, but he'd been so closed off since I'd arrived.

And every night as I lay in Edward's room surrounded by his furniture and his scent and the journals stacked up on his dresser, I would pull out pen and paper, adjust the pillow behind my back, and I would write to him. Then I'd seal each letter and wait for an address where I could actually send him my words and thoughts.

The nights when my thoughts would leave me reeling and breathless were the most difficult for me to handle. My mind would vacillate between Edward's distance and Jacob's death, never fully able to feel one without feeling guilty about the other.

Two nights before Christmas, my lungs closed off, and I couldn't breathe. Sandy whined and followed me as I ran down the stairs, threw open the front door and lurched outside, all the while wrapped in Edward's blanket. For a second, I thought that the snowflakes drifting about in the inky air where the stars falling from the heavens or tiny explosions. I imagined that the Nazis or the Japanese had found us. And as I lifted my face up to the cold and drew in deep breaths, I tried with all my might to hold back the tears.

"It's okay, Bella."

Esme's soothing voice settled all around me. Her warm hand stroked my shoulder.

"It's okay to let out the tears. It'll make you sick at heart otherwise."

"I don't even know what exactly I'd be crying for," I chuckled humorlessly, "or…or for whom I'd be crying."

"You mean between Jacob and Edward."

It wasn't a question, and there was no judgment in her voice, no reproach though one was her son and the other was the boy…the man I might have…could have one day truly loved if I'd remained Isabella Swan.

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around me while I blinked away a few errant tears.

"There are all kinds of love, Bella," she murmured. "Crying for a love you've lost isn't a betrayal to the love you still have, just as crying for the love you have now isn't a betrayal to the one you once loved – or may have loved had circumstances been different."

I swallowed thickly. "How do you understand? Is it because that's how you felt when you mourned your love for Papa Phil?"

Esme slowly turned me around, her soft blue eyes meeting mine. With a tender smile, she took my hands and squeezed them tightly.

"I figured it out a while ago," I confessed. "It wasn't anything in the way he looks at you; he's very careful not to let it show - most of the time. And you…well you just love Carlisle so much. I could see that too."

"I do love Carlisle, Bella. Of course I do."

"It's just…I can _feel_ it whenever we're all together: Papa Phil's sadness…Carlisle's jealousy…your discomfort. And then, one day, it all made sense." I smiled despite the tears I felt rolling down my cheeks. "I finally understood why Papa always includes you and Carlisle in everything no matter how uncomfortable you all are together, why he always stands up for you, why he's always been on my side when it comes to Edward."

"He's always been on your side when it comes to you and Edward because…well because he has sound judgment – most of the time at least," she mused.

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

She sighed deeply. "Carlisle, Philip and I…we grew up together, but Philip was always the adventurous one." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "He was the one itching to go, to get out there and make a fortune while Carlisle and I were content to bask in the light of his sun, and what a magnificent light he gave off," she breathed. "You couldn't help but admire that light, that brilliance, and I…well, I was in love with that light, and then one day…he fell in love with me, and for a while there, it seemed as if his dreams may have changed, as if perhaps…he'd found his reason." She inhaled deeply, and when she exhaled, her breath swirled in the night air before us. "None of us had much, but I was happy where I was. I never desired to see the world beyond the mountains of Washington. I never wished for riches or fineries or for anything beyond a home and family. My biggest dream was to marry and build a home full of love and happy children."

"You did, Esme."

She cradled my cheek. "I've been blessed with a wonderful family, but I know it was a simple dream compared to the dreams of others. Philip believed it to be a simple dream, and that opinion was certainly his right. We came of age at a time when the nation was ripe with opportunities, and it was his right to seek those opportunities and make the most of them if that's what he desired, what he was meant for. And Philip was always meant for more than what he would've had by staying."

"So he left," I said.

She nodded quietly. "First to the war, and then when he returned…well…we'd both changed so much. His dreams, that light I'd always loved in him, it eclipsed me. The very same light I'd fallen in love with was what tore us apart. In his defense, when he left once and for all, he did ask me to go with him."

I shook my head, my heart breaking for Papa Phil despite it all because I knew very well how this story ended. "But you wouldn't go."

"No, I wouldn't. You see, as much as he claimed he wanted me at his side, I knew he truly didn't; not anymore. We were no longer young children, and our differences were too overwhelming. _I_ was no longer enough of a reason." She filled her lungs with the cold, night air surrounding us. "Not long after, Carlisle came back from the university and…and we realized that we both wanted the same things: a family, a home, a quiet life. And I knew that staying had been the right choice."

"So you have no regrets?"

"Oh Bella," she sighed, "we as human beings will always have some degree of regret. There are always things you wish you would've done differently. But if you mean do I regret Philip or Carlisle, no, I've never regretted either."

I frowned. "But if you love Carlisle, really love him, how could you not regret Papa Phil?"

Holding my gaze, Esme reached out and stroked my cheek tenderly. "Bella, every relationship teaches us something of value. Every time we love, whether it's love for a brother or a friend or…someone who under a different set of conditions may have been more, we learn something about ourselves. With Phil, I learned my capacity for love, and I learned that…even a love that ends can last a lifetime – in its own way. Don't deny yourself what you learned from Jacob. If Edward were here right now, I don't think that's what he'd want."

I drew in a deep breath and thought of how patient and understanding Edward had been with me during those two short days back in Chicago, and then I thought of the things he'd said at the train station.

"No, Esme, I don't think Edward would want me to disregard my time with Jacob, but there are things of which you and Papa Phil are wrong."

She waited.

"You think Papa Phil is on our side because he's fair and just, when he simply sees you and him in Edward and me. But I'm sorry; we're _not_ a reincarnation of the both of you. You _both_ gave up on your love. Edward and I never will."

She hugged me close to her. "You're right, Sweetheart. You're not a reincarnation of us. _You_ have what it takes to fight for him, Bella. Don't let go because _you_ are exactly what Edward has always needed: a real and true reason."

OOOOOOOOOO

On Christmas Eve, like an early gift from Saint Nick himself, the first letters finally arrived.

Rose, Alice and I were pulling out Christmas decorations from the boxes that had been stored in the attic when we heard Esme screaming from outside, and when we rushed to the window, she was running up the porch steps.

"Girls, mail!"

They were only two words, but they were the sweetest two words I'd heard in days.

We both dropped the decorations we'd been holding and rushed her. As soon as I recognized my name in Edward's handwriting, my heart leapt into my throat, and I confess I may have snatched the letter out of Esme's hand. I vaguely noted the forwarding address from Chicago at the top before I realized that it wasn't just one letter but a small pile of envelopes held together by a rubber band.

I tore through the first envelope, barely absorbing the words in one letter before anxiously moving on to the next, all while tears pooled around the outer edges of my eyes.

_**December 14**_

_My beautiful Bella,_

_It's been a long day on this train, surrounded by acres and acres of land with no mountains but instead wide, green prairies full of grazing cattle and horses running wild. It's beautiful, I suppose, but all I see are your golden eyes. All I can think of is how I left you. _

_There are a couple of other guys on the train heading to the same place as I. We've become friends, I suppose, if that's what you can call men you've only known for a few hours. What's more, I have no idea how it'll work once we get there. Will we be put in a class together? _

_I feel lost, Bella. I'll confess it now. No, I won't deny that I'm also a bit excited. I wish there was a way to bring you here with me, but then I remember where I'm headed. _

_Are you okay, Sweetheart? Did I mess everything up by leaving you as I did? Don't give up on me, Bella. Someday, I'll learn how to show you exactly how much I love you. Someday, I hope to truly deserve you. Until then, please don't give up on me._

_**December 15**_

_My beautiful Bella, _

_As the train rumbles on towards our destination, I'm thinking of our nights together. There haven't been many, but the ones we've had fill my mind. I have to be careful what I write because I'm sending this to your dad's house, but I think you'll know of what nights I'm thinking. And Mr. Swan, if you ever read this, please know that your daughter has always been a perfect lady, and I've tried my best to be a gentleman with her._

_I suppose I'm dead either way if he's reading this._

_Someday, Bella, we'll spend every night together, and I won't have to write in clandestine code or pretend you aren't every fantasy I've ever had. I love you, and I'm so lonely for you right now._

_**December 16**_

_My Sweet Bella,_

_We just arrived today. I'm so exhausted, Sweetheart, but I simply can't close my eyes without speaking to you, even in this way. It's strange here. There are so many other men around my age that I'd feel like I was back in school if it weren't for the look of bewilderment in so many of their eyes. I wonder if I look like that as well. They're telling us "Lights out" so I'll have to keep this short._

_I'm okay, Sweetheart. They've assigned us barracks, and I've got a top bunk, so that's good I suppose. It gives me some privacy – at least, I think it does. We'll see._

_Alright, my love. They've called "Lights Out" again, and I don't want to get in trouble on my first night here. So I'll just tell you that I love you and miss you with all my heart._

_**December 17**_

_My beautiful Bella,_

_They allowed us one phone call today (as if we're in jail). We were supposed to call our parents and let them know where we are (I assume it was for those men who don't keep in touch). But I called you, and Charlie tells me you went home with Momma until Christmas! I don't know whether to be happy because you're back home with my folks or to be upset because I missed out on hearing your voice. What's more, the irony of this situation isn't lost on me. It's almost comical, almost as if we've reversed roles: you're home, and now, I'm the one who's away…_

_I have so much to tell you too. They've explained this place a bit better. Apparently, this is a sort of holding area where we'll be outfitted, classified, and given some basics before they determine where we belong. I can't wait until we're allowed mail. I'm going crazy without hearing from you, without being able to communicate properly with you. _

_But here's one story, and I'll save the rest for my next letter because it's almost time to get into formation._

_First, we had to go for our outfitting where we receive our uniforms, and then they marched us down to the barber shop (They march us in formation EVERYWHERE. Since I arrived, I haven't gone anywhere by myself other than to the bathroom and bed). The barber proceeded to ask for a volunteer to go first, and you know me. I suppose I wanted to prove something, though what that may have been I've already forgotten. Anyway, the barber then asked me how I wanted my cut. I told him he could take off more from the sides but not too much from the top (I was thinking of how much you like to run your fingers through the top of my hair and grip onto it when we're kissing). And Bella, Sweetheart, that barber looked me straight in the eye and studied my hair with the intensity of a bulldog, nodding thoughtfully as if he were really pondering how best to proceed for an optimal style. Then he pulled out the clippers and made a quick pass front to back and front again, and before I could finish the low oath I uttered but won't repeat in this letter, it was all over. _

_Well, I'll admit, everyone had a good laugh at my expense, and perhaps I'll start thinking twice before I'm the first to volunteer for anything._

_And now I have to go, Sweetheart. It's time to get into formation - again. Please know that I'm doing fine if not a bit achy from all the marching along with a bit of a bruised ego and a cold head. I'll be writing to Momma and Pop separately, though you can share this story with them because it's too long to write out twice._

_Love you so much. Truly._

_Edward A. Cullen_

I chuckled through my tears.

OOOOOOOOOO

Christmas Day arrived. I'd been hoping for a Christmas miracle - for the telephone to ring and for Edward to be on the other end. But that wasn't to be. When the phone did ring, it was Mother and Papa Phil. I assured them I'd be leaving the next day as promised. And so the Cullens and I exchanged presents, and I held Sandy on my lap while looking at her wearing her new, knitted scarf while Gus panted at my side wearing his, and I watched Alice and Jasper quietly exchange their own gifts to one another.

On December 26th, I hugged and kissed them all and boarded the _Union Builder_ east to New York.

And as 1941 came to a close, I stood safely and warmly inside our Upper West Side apartment, holding a glass of wine and clinking it against those of Mother and Papa Phil's closest friends, playing the part I'd promised to play. And as everyone laughed and cried and hoped for a better 1942 - one that would usher in a better fate as well as that "Victory" Churchill had promised - my thoughts returned to Edward, and I wondered when we'd finally ring in a New Year together.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**For now, we'll have to continue with the once-a-week updates. **

**AOI Playlist Song # 38: **_**So Near and Yet So Far**_** (1941) by Cole Porter &amp; Ella Fitzgerald:**

_**My dear, I've a feeling you are**__**  
**__**So near and yet so far**__**  
**__**You appear like a radiant star**__**  
**__**First so near then again so far**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Thanks, and see you next week!**_**  
**_


	38. Chapter 37 - Stand By Me

**A/N: I'm late this week! Sorry! RL is still kicking my butt, but here we go!**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 37 – Stand by Me**

* * *

#########

"Now unlike the men in the army infantry, the men in the air forces could look forward to quite a long period of training before being sent overseas – that is, _if_ they made it into air force cadet training. Otherwise, just like their infantry brothers, they'd be off to war in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

This bit of knowledge came as somewhat of a respite to me as my copper-haired soldier and I corresponded back and forth in those first few weeks of 1942 because..." I smile before snorting quite indelicately, "well because anyone who knew him knew he'd settle for nothing less than being part of an aircrew."

"So your copper-haired young man didn't leave for the war right away?" Isabella asks.

I turn my head sideways and give her a soft smile over my shoulder, yet when I face forward once more, it's not the mountains before me that I see; they've been shrouded by the lovely memory of nineteen year old Edward in uniform: tall and strong, green eyes bright and excited, grinning widely at me as he proudly displayed the wings on his cap.

A long sigh escapes me.

"No. No, he didn't. And despite a few…trying incidents during that first half of 1942, that year was also full of some of the happiest, most tender memories I have."

"Please tell us about them, Nana," Olivia requests.

##########

Well, by the end of January, the first American forces began arriving in Europe to supplement the British and Russian forces now battling the Nazis, while in the Pacific, the Japanese advance continued.

But back at home, when I returned to school at the beginning of the year, I was elated to find another stack of letters awaiting me from none other than Private Edward A. Cullen. I read them all with unbounded eagerness, full of excitement for all his news, observations and adventures, yet riddled with anxiety when I remembered where all those adventures would lead him. Among many things, I learned that Edward was undergoing both physical and mental exams on a daily basis along with a series of inoculations, daily calisthenics and yes, lots of drills and marching.

But the best part of all was that now I had somewhere to which I could address my own letters. I posted every single letter I'd written him every day since he'd left for basic training, and then finally, after weeks of one-way communication, the conversations finally flowed both ways.

OOOOOOOOOO

**_January 7, 1942_**

_My Sweet Bella:_

_Sweetheart, you have no idea how happy I was to receive your letters. These past few weeks without hearing from you have been torture, especially after the way we parted…_

**_January 8, 1942_**

_Dear Edward:_

_It's so wonderful to be able to communicate with you again. If I try hard enough, I can almost convince myself that you're simply at the university. Yet knowing that you're even physically closer now than you were this time last year is both thrilling and confusing..._

**_January 12, 1942_**

_My Sweet Bella:_

_You have no idea what your letters mean to me, and now that I've been able to communicate with Masen as well, I'm feeling better than I have in a while. He tells me he received a letter from you a couple of weeks ago. As you know, he's in Texas as well, but he's on the other side of this huge state, and chances are, our paths won't cross again for a while…_

**_January 14, 1942_**

_My Dear Edward:_

_Thank you so much for sending me a picture of you in uniform! I carry it with me everywhere. I've shown it to all my friends, and they all agree that you're the handsomest air force private to have ever existed – which is quite a compliment for them to pay as many of them have their own beaus in training at the moment..._

_OOOOOOOOOO_

One late, Sunday afternoon in late January, as I was in my room after church writing to Edward while Tanya wrote to one of her many beaus, there was a knock at our dormitory. In peeked one of the younger girls, a freshman or sophomore. I can't recall. Her widened eyes quickly scanned the room, and when her gaze landed on me, she gave me a hesitant smile.

"Miss Dwyer," she said (you see, the younger classes were instructed to address the older classes formally), "there's a call for you."

"From whom?" I frowned because I'd already spoken to Mother and Papa Phil the previous day.

"I…I don't really know," she responded sheepishly.

"Well, didn't you ask?" Tanya questioned her.

The girl remained silent.

By this time, a thin sheen of sweat had formed over my forehead, and my heart had taken up a spastic rhythm. I don't remember actually standing or walking out of the room.

"I'll bet you it's nothing - probably your dad or Alice just calling to say hello. Or it's more likely your stepfather to say that he's increasing your allowance," Tanya rambled while walking with me, "or even Renee," she lifted her chin arrogantly, "to inform you of yet another society family that she's invited to your June graduation, or better yet, to the debutante ball she refuses to give up on." She chuckled shakily, but I knew we were both thinking of the same thing; after all, it had only been the previous evening that she'd told me one of her beaus had written her about an airfield accident in Georgia, where two planes had collided in mid-air and killed a couple of Air Force pilots-in-training.

By the time we reached the office, blood pounded so noisily between my ears that I could barely hear anything. With a shaking hand, I picked up the receiver that had been left waiting.

"Yes?"

"Please wait while I connect the call to Sheppard Airfield," said a female operator.

"It's the airfield," I murmured and closed my eyes. Tanya's hand wrapped around mine.

Of course, at the time, I was still too young and inexperienced with the way the military and war worked to realize that the U.S. Air Force would never call me if anything ever happened; I was neither next-of-kin nor wife.

"Bella?"

"Edward?" I breathed unsurely.

"Sweetheart, it's me!" He laughed. "Oh God, Bella, say something, Baby; let me hear your voice."

I would've obliged him right away if I wasn't so busy swallowing my heart back into my chest.

"Edward," I finally said in a strangled voice. "Are you okay? Is it really you?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "It's really me. They've allowed us one call to give our folks the good news, and God, I was hoping to catch you this time."

"Well, I'm here," I snorted, smiling at Tanya through the haze of tears clouding my vision. She grinned and gave my hand a squeeze.

"I've got to be quick, Sweetheart. I've been given a clean bill of health, and with the letters of recommendation from my teachers and your stepfather and the results of the exams…well, I've been accepted into the U.S. Army Air Force Aviation Cadet Training Program."

The excitement in his voice made me smile despite the risks I was only beginning to understand. "So you'll be an officer?"

"I'll be an officer," he confirmed with a hearty chuckle. I thought I could make out other voices hollering and laughing in the background. "But more importantly, I'll be flying. There's another screening process that'll decide whether I'll be training to be a pilot, navigator or bombardier, but I'm gonna be in the air, Sweetheart!"

This time, I clearly made out a couple of "Woo-hoos!" and "Yee-haws!" through the phone lines.

"I'm so happy for you, Edward," I smiled. How could I not be happy for him when he was clearly so thrilled? "I know flying is what you've always wanted to do."

"Not more than I've always wanted you."

This was followed by raucous laughter in the background. I was pretty sure I even recognized some kissing noises. But Edward laughed again, so I knew it wasn't so much malicious as just a group of boys teasing and having fun, letting off steam from days and days of being ordered around and drilled and marched everywhere.

There were some muted sounds I couldn't quite make out because Edward seemed to have covered the receiver.

He spoke again. "Now I haven't been picked to be a pilot yet-"

"But you will be," I finished for him. "You and I both know you will be."

"Congratulations, Edward!" Tanya yelled loudly enough for him to hear through the phone lines.

"That was Tanya," I clarified.

He chuckled. "Tell her I said thanks. Bella," he sighed, "God, I wish you were here."

"Aww!" I heard the men around him say.

"I miss you so damn much," he added. "I wish I could hold you right now. I know I let you down, and God, it weighs on me-"

"Stop. You haven't let me down." I shook my head vehemently even though I knew he couldn't see me. "You could never let me down. I'm so proud of you."

"I love you, Bella…so much."

There was a sudden silence on both ends after he said that. On my end, the silence was because I wanted to savor the words, and on his end, the line hushed because…well, the way he'd said it, I could _feel_ his love…his need, and I suppose even a bunch of rowdy, cadets-in-training could hear it as well. It hit me then that many of them were most likely feeling the same sort of loneliness, the need for someone.

"I love you too," I murmured. My eyes swept the room, and yes, everyone's gaze was on me. Yet like Edward, who was thousands of miles away, I couldn't care less.

"They're moving me."

"To where? When?"

"Tomorrow morning, I'll be headed for Kelly Field, here in Texas. I should be there for about eight weeks for pre-flight training 'til they decide which specialty I'm qualified for."

"I wish I could go see you," I breathed.

"So do I, Bella. Once I'm settled there, I'm allowed visitors on Sunday afternoons, but I know you're in school and too far away for that to make much of a difference. Alright, alright, damn it! I'm getting off," he suddenly growled, and then spoke more quickly afterwards. "But Bella, soon I'll be allowed off base for weekends, and if it's okay with you, I was thinking of writing Philip to see if he'd allow you to come down for a weekend - chaperoned of course – if it's something you'd be willing to do."

"Of course I would! Yes, I'll speak to Papa Phil as well," I assured him, tingling with excitement now. "Just tell me when."

"Alright, I'm almost done!" he yelled impatiently. "Sweetheart, there are other guys waiting to make calls. I'll let you know what's going on, and as soon as I get there, I'll write you the address so you can keep writing me. Don't forget I love you!"

There were most definite kissing sounds in the background this time.

"I love you too, Edward!" I chuckled. "Write me soon, alright? And please, please be careful!"

"I'm in Texas, Bella. What could possibly happen?"

"Goodbye, Edward!" Tanya yelled. "Don't worry; I'll take care of her!"

"I don't know how I feel about that," Edward teased, and then the call was over.

OOOOOOOOOO

Now, Papa Phil's handful of meetings in Washington, D.C. before the war hadn't been in vain. Edward, as well as 90% of the men employed by the U.S. military traveled by trains all across the country over the course of the war, from training field to training field, during weekend passes to visit family and friends, and finally, to points of embarkation where they'd board ships headed for the Pacific or Atlantic theatres. If they were lucky, they'd make the trip back in reverse.

So Edward headed to Kelly Field for pre-flight training one day in late January, and we kept up our correspondence. Our letters took about five days to a week or so to reach each other, but since we were writing as much as possible, there was basically a letter arriving back and forth almost daily.

**_February 5, 1942_**

_My Sweet Bella:_

_Thank you so much for that picture of you out with your friends last weekend. You look…heartbreakingly gorgeous. How is it possible that you grow even more beautiful with each passing month, each passing day, and each passing hour? It honestly hurts to look at you._

_Please don't take that the wrong way. I'm horrible with expressing myself as you're well aware. I only meant my heart aches for you. I love the picture; though, I do have to admit that I've only shared it with one buddy of mine: my friend, Mac, that I've told you about. I apologize if I'm not as kind and generous as you are, but I'll admit to being selfish and wanting to keep you to myself as much as possible._

_I'm even more tired than usual tonight. They worked us hard today. Hours here are insane. We're up at 4:30 am and go at it hard until 7:30 pm. Then there's homework until they come inspect the barracks at 8:30 pm, then it's lights out at 9:00 pm. _

_We usually keep the barracks pretty clean. It's just something happened today...well, there's a cadet here by the name of Riley, from right here in Texas. Most of us have accepted the fact that Riley and baths aren't the best of friends (one of the many cons of bunking in a room full of seventy-nine other men). The rest of us started thinking that perhaps his aversion to baths stemmed from the fact that it hasn't rained much here since we arrived, and maybe he was simply being thoughtful in trying to conserve water? But over the past few days, it's been thunderstorm after thunderstorm. By yesterday, it had gotten nearly impossible to step into these barracks without wanting to vomit. In fact, we were warned during last evening's inspection that it smelled like a rat had died in here, and we were instructed to find said dead rat and take care of it._

_Now we voted on it, Bella, and the decision was made that in the best interest of every man here, Cadet Riley was going to have to make friends with some soap and water. He's a big man, though, so it took six of us to show him where exactly the showers were, and my arms are aching something horribly. I may have received an errant fist to the stomach as well, but I promise you, everything's good now. Cadet Riley finally understands the value of a good shower, and the rest of us understand the value of democracy._

_And there goes the call for lights out. Good night, Sweet Bella. I love you._

**_February 10, 1942_**

_Dear Edward:_

_Your stories are so entertaining, I hope you don't mind that I read some of them aloud to Tanya and a few other friends. We share some of our beaus words, but yours are definitely always the best. I do hope that when you write to Esme and the rest, you convey some of these tales. I'm sure they'd find them as entertaining as I do._

_Thank you so much for not being upset with me for spending so much time in one of my last letters reminiscing about Jacob. Yes, it still hurts. I won't deny it, not to you - my best friend as well as the man I love. I'm so grateful to you for allowing me to talk to you about him. I'm positive that if you and he would've had a chance to meet, you would've eventually been good friends. _

_Did you receive the candies I sent you? Esme writes me that she's sent you a few goodies as well. You see, we want to keep you well fed despite what we hear about army food. I'm sorry that mealtime isn't the enjoyable affair it used to be when you were home, but my love, you should've expected that when joining the military. (Yes, I am teasing you.)_

**_February 14, 1942_**

_My Sweet Bella:_

_Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!_

_The chocolates you sent arrived yesterday, and they're the best ones yet. I admit I've hoarded them mostly for myself, but I did share a few. Then just to rub it in, I also finally shared your picture, and I'm happy (and a bit smug) to admit that between the chocolates and your picture, I'm probably the most envied man on base._

_I've missed a couple of days of writing, and I apologize. I hate not being able to write you every day anymore, but they've stepped up the drills. Sometimes it feels as if its all we do. On a positive note, I'll tell you that Flight 533 (my flight, which I'll remind you just in case, is what they call our class) won the award for last Sunday morning's ceremonial march and parade. It sounds ridiculous; I know. There are men already in the Pacific and Europe fighting this damn war, and we're here marching for awards. But it's a big deal here. _

_We'll be getting our first thirty-six hour passes this weekend, and many of my fellow cadets will be headed to San Antonio, which isn't very far. I might go along; I haven't decided yet. But I know I don't have to tell you not to worry. You're always the only girl on my mind and in my heart. _

**_March 2, 1942_**

_Dear Edward:_

_I was so proud when your mama wrote to tell me of the award letters that have been sent home from your flight commander, congratulating your parents on your many accomplishments! Why haven't you told me that you're Flight Leader for your flight? I'm truly trying not to be childish and allowing myself to believe that it's because you don't care enough to tell me, so I'll go with the more likely scenario that it's because you don't like to show off. _

_I adore the new picture you sent of you in your cadet uniform. I'll admit that unlike you, I shared it freely, wanting everyone to see how unbelievably handsome you are. You see? I must not be as kind as you believe me to be after all because I enjoyed seeing the looks of envy on my classmates faces, the way their jaws dropped when they saw my future pilot-in-training._

_You did make me laugh with your latest story, and I must also admit that I wouldn't be able to tell between a cadet uniform and an officer's uniform either, especially with those wings on your cap. I don't blame those enlisted men you encountered in San Antonio for saluting you and your friends; though, it was pretty brazen of you to accept that salute so willingly._

_I can only imagine the laughter that you and your friend, Mac shared after that. _

**_March 5, 1942_**

_My Dearest Bella:_

_Thank you so much for the box of cookies you sent. Please tell your school cook that he/she is an amazing baker and that they rivaled Momma's cookies. As you instructed, I did share these latest treats with my entire flight in congratulations for our awards, and if they weren't in love with you before, they sure as heck are now._

_I think it's wonderful that Miss Tudor's school is running those drives you mentioned to assist with the cause -collecting rubber, nylons, and other such items, and I'm so proud of you for heading these committees, Sweetheart. But I can't say that I'm surprised. If I close my eyes, I can still see you as a girl of twelve, standing alongside Momma and Alice in the soup kitchens helping to serve. Though we did get used to it eventually, Momma and Pop used to force Masen, Alice and I to go, but there was no one ever forcing you to do such things._

**_March 17, 1942_**

_My Dearest Edward:_

_I'm sobbing like a child, but please don't let it upset you. I'm simply overflowing with pride and happiness on your behalf. I knew you'd make it into pilot training. You say you remember me as a child, but I remember you as well, and I remember that boy of twelve, who one summer volunteered to watch my dog for me while at the same time assuring me that our arrangement would only be temporary because he'd be flying airplanes someday._

_You were half-right._

_Now that they're moving you to Georgia, you'll be closer to me, and perhaps we'll be able to convince Papa Phil to allow me to visit. I'll speak to him one more when I see him this weekend, at which point he should have received the latest letter you say you've sent him._

**_March 18, 1942_**

_Dear Bella:_

_Well, the weather here is finally improving. It was a rainy winter, and it's strange to hear you say it was a dry one in New York. The fact that the weather can be so different reminds me of the great distance between us._

_Everyone is well. Momma stays busy with the house you know, helping the neighbors as always, and with various drives she's involved with. Pop stays busy with the business and the animals. Rose looks wonderful, as you can see from the picture I've sent you. She's got the tiniest bump that isn't even visible in that picture, but we all know that she's secretly anxious to grow as big as a cow. Momma says she believes it's a boy because of the way Rose radiates. _

_I'm glad to hear that you're staying busy as well. You've only a few months of high school left and you must focus on that. I know it's hard with the boys gone. I miss them too, Bella. I write them as much as I can, but they're both busy between training and writing Rose and you. _

_I also was very happy to hear that Edward has been accepted into pilot training; though, I suppose none of us ever doubted that he would be, did we?_

_Masen is almost done with the training he needs to be a combat medic and will be shipping off in just a few weeks. Rose is writing you her own letter regarding that. She'd like to come stay with you in New York City so that she can see him off as he'll be departing from someplace called Fort Kilmer, in New Jersey. _

_As I wrote you last time, I did go ahead and quit my job at the five and dime. It simply wasn't what I wanted anymore. I have another bit of news, and I hope you can be happy for me as most here are having a difficult time understanding, but I feel that you've always known my heart in a way no one else has._

_I'm not sure if you've heard that the Army Red Cross is starting an expedited nursing program for those willing to serve overseas once schooling is over. It's a two year program, and they'll pay for all my schooling._

_I've applied, been accepted and begin in May. _

_Please tell me that you understand. You asked me once if I had to choose between Jasper and getting out of here, which one I'd choose. I choose both, Bella. Edward chose both, and you stood by him. Please stand by me. Jasper is having a bit of a hard time with this, and while it may be too much to ask of our friendship, I was hoping you could write him and help him see that I still love him with all my heart, but if I don't do this, I'll never be the wife he deserves._

_Your sister at heart,_

_Alice Cullen._

OOOOOOOOOO

I held Alice's letter close to my chest, swallowing thickly to hold back the tears of frustration and…anger. I snorted at the fact that I'd thought she was going to tell me that she was expecting.

It took all my effort to wait until after classes to place the telephone call. Either way, I wouldn't have been allowed to place it during school hours without assuring those in charge that someone had died – which was a lie I never wanted to tell. With the time difference, I was hoping to catch Alice before Jasper arrived home from work. Thankfully, I did.

"Alice?"

"Bella?"

We were both silent for a few seconds, unsure as to where to start.

"I suppose you received my letter."

"Alice…Ally, what are you doing?"

I heard her deep sigh on the other end. "I have to do this."

"No, you don't," I contradicted. "You're married, Alice. You made a promise to Jasper."

"I'm not breaking it."

"You're bending it horribly!"

"If no one else, I'd hoped at least you'd understand," she accused, "but it's so easy for you to judge me."

"I'm trying not to judge you, Alice, I swear I'm trying," I choked, "but think of what you're doing. We're not fourteen and fifteen years old anymore. This isn't a summer adventure in Chicago or a job at the five and dime or even a _scandalous memory_ to keep us warm in our-"

"I know it's not!" she yelled. "You stood by Edward-"

"I've known from the very beginning…" I swallowed back a sob, "from the very beginning that this was what Edward wanted, but _you-_"

"You _knew_ I wanted more!"

I closed my eyes and tried to measure my words because she was right. I _had_ known. I'd always known she was so much like Edward.

"Yes, I knew you wanted more, and I'm so sorry I left you behind year after year, but what about Jasper? Jesus, Alice, what about Jasper? You told me yourself what being turned away from the service has done to him. How can you do this?"

"It kills me, Bella, but I have to go! I have to do this for the both of us! I'll only be in California, and how knows? The war may be over before I even finish my schooling."

"And what if it's not, Alice? Those are all poor excuses, and you know it!" I hissed.

"They're not excuses! I won't be any good for him otherwise! I have to try this, Bella! Despite all your complaints about how hard you've had it with your mother, you've always had your freedom, and I swear, I don't begrudge you, but I do envy you! Try to see things my way: being trapped in the same place year after year, wanting to break free, but never having an opportunity to do so! This is _my_ opportunity, Bella, and it may be the only one I'll ever get!"

"It's a goddamn _war_ over there, Alice, not a party!"

"You don't understand! You've been living the rich girl life for so long that you've no idea what I'm trying to say or what I feel!"

"That's not fair," I said shakily. "You know more than almost anyone else that things haven't been as easy as they seem for me!"

"Only because you've allowed it, but this may be _my_ only chance, Bella!"

"Alice, you'll be going to _war_ in two years if it hasn't ended by then!" I ignored the crowd of girls surrounding me as well as the dean's pleas to keep my voice down. "Think of your parents! Your damn brothers are already breaking their hearts by leaving!"

"And I have to be the one to stay behind?" she retorted hotly. "Why is it okay for Edward and Masen to leave, for Edward to break your heart while you stand by him, yet you won't do the same for me?" she sobbed.

"Alice-"

"You're a hypocrite! You'd marry him right now, and he'd still leave you behind!"

I inhaled sharply, not because what she was saying wasn't true, but because of the venomous way she'd hurled it at me, knowing me as I knew her; using what she knew would hurt me the most.

"I won't change him. I promised I wouldn't change him."

She snorted. "And he took that promise and ran with it. Yet I'm expected to be satisfied with being left behind."

"Please don't do this, Alice. I'm begging you."

She didn't answer right away. "I have to, Bella. I simply have to."

And with that, she hung up.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 39: **

**Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree (1942) by Glenn Miller &amp; His Orchestra:**

_**Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me**__**  
**__**Anyone else but me, anyone else but me**__**  
**__**No, no, no, don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me**__**  
**__**Till I come marching home**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	39. Chapter 38 - Upper West Side Reveille

**A/N: This is a short one (by this story's standards, LOL), but things are crazy lately. As I write this, I'm at a week-long business conference just outside of Boston, Ma.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 38 – Upper West Side Reveille**

I sat across from Papa Phil's large, mahogany desk, leaning in close to see the documents he had open between us.

"Though it's the most modern technology, we're now restricted from building new diesel locomotives because of the war's need for steel and metal; therefore, we're going to have to make due with steam locomotives to satisfy the increase in demand we'll soon see."

"You mean the increase in demand we're already seeing, Papa. Edward tells me the trains are packed with troops trying to get from one base to another."

Papa Phil nodded. "During my meetings in D.C. last year, we came up with a rough estimate for how many new train cars we'd need to meet the travel requirements of military passengers, but it seems we may have neglected to account for the surge of patriotism that would result from an actual attack – or for the hordes of young men that would eagerly run to enlist." He smirked and raised a meaningful eyebrow.

Knowing what I needed to ask of him today, I chose to ignore the thinly-veiled jab at my beau. "It seems to me as if some people may have known this war was coming."

He sighed. "We…suspected – though no one had any idea in what manner it would reach us. But I, as well as those in charge at the capital, determined it would be better to be proactive rather than reactive. Don't you agree, Isabella?"

"I suppose so, especially since, according to the dates on this bill-of-sale, you'd already ordered delivery of these steam engines long before war was actually declared." I arched my own meaningful eyebrow.

He snorted and nodded once. "Yes, Isabella, you're correct. See, this model is the best there is right now, and I had to make sure we'd be first in line to get the best."

"The troops," – _Edward_ – "certainly deserve the best. You'll need to order more passenger trains as well, Papa," I said, keeping my eyes on the bill-of-sale figures, "depending on how many cars you want per train. Also, do you want them just for military transport, or will you mix them with civilian transport as well?" I frowned, biting my lip in concentration. "Because that will affect the ratio of Pullman Sleepers to the size of the train."

"Very good," he declared. "We do have people working on an updated ratio based on the new forecasts. What else can you think of, Isabella?"

"If freight cars will be included, you'll need some of the heavier steam engines to carry-"

I looked up to find Papa Phil staring at me with a wide grin on his handsome face. At some point, the whiskers on his mustache had developed a touch of silver - which didn't make him look old by any means. If anything, it simply lent him an even more distinguished air.

"Yes, we've ordered P70 passenger coaches, as well as the heavier steamers. This other bill-of-sale" – he placed another bill over the one we'd been studying – "is for those."

We spent another forty-five minutes or so discussing the railroads. Papa Phil explained the new requirements all the U.S. rails would now have to follow in order to keep movement of troops classified. We certainly didn't want the enemy knowing where and when our troops were being moved around the country. We also brainstormed a few ways to dispense propaganda aimed at helping civilians acclimate to the fact that they would no longer be the railroad's priority, ways of reminding them that though trains may now be overcrowded and wait times longer, in the end, we were all working towards one goal.

Eventually, Papa Phil looked up at me and smiling once more, set down his solid gold, fountain pen.

"I think that's enough for now, Isabella. You've shared some very good ideas with me and absorbed everything else very well. I thank you for your time."

"Thank you for including me. It was very…enlightening; though, I thought being locked in this office with you, reviewing the railroad's finances was Peter's duty," I smirked.

"It has been," he conceded, leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers together, "but I didn't think you'd appreciate having him here this weekend." Another arched brow.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "I appreciate your consideration."

He chuckled. "Besides, there are a few things I'd like to speak with you about."

"There are a few things I wanted to speak with you about as well," I acknowledged.

"I'm sure there are," he smirked.

Looking around Papa Phil's large office in our upper west side Manhattan townhouse, I did my best to regulate my breathing and gather my courage for the impending argument that would soon ensue with my stepfather – otherwise known as Philip Dwyer the Second, one of the most powerful businessmen in the nation.

It was a very masculine office, trimmed in rich, dark wood that perfectly matched the mahogany furniture, of which his huge, European desk with the fluted pilasters and leaf accents was the obvious centerpiece. A picture of Papa and FDR shaking hands outside of the President's Hyde Park, NY home graced one of the walls, and an original and quite colorful painting by one of Papa Phil's artist friends, Mr. Jackson Pollock, graced another.

The entire room was quite intimidating, and I've no doubt that was exactly Papa Phil's intention. But unlike most of the businessmen that dared to enter his upper west side office, _I_ knew what the frames on his desk and facing the windows displayed, the frames only he could see as he did his wheeling and dealing from behind his empire:

A picture of him, Mother, Lauren and I on our first Independence Day Barbecue in Washington, another of Lauren at her Roman Catholic First Communion, and one of me, aged eleven, kneeling on the warm, Washington summer grass and hugging Sandy close to me.

I couldn't help thinking of the pictures that should've been…yet weren't.

"I assume Lauren will be getting the same lessons in railroad finance once she visits," I mused, my mind having momentarily drifted to my stepsister.

He chuckled, swiveling his chair from side to side. I was sure he knew very well that I was merely biding my time, sharpening my arguments because there was a very specific motive as to why I'd patiently sat through an afternoon in his office while he indulged his inner railroad tycoon.

"Your sister is only interested in receiving her monthly stipend and for the foreseeable future, planning her wedding that will occur next May."

"She needs over a year to plan a wedding?"

Papa Phil grinned. "You girls are as different as night and day. She's very much her mother's daughter, as you are very much…" he cleared his throat, letting the rest of his thought disappear into the sandalwood-scented air. "Lauren…Lauren will never care nor feel as deeply as you do, Isabella, and perhaps in its own way, that's for the best. Some people aren't meant to feel too deeply." He sat up straight and clapped his hands together, assuming the posture of a man ready to do business. "Nevertheless, I doubt your sister and her long-range wedding plans is one of the topics you wanted to speak with me about."

"No," I shook my head and straightened my own spine. "It's not. Alice Cullen has been accepted into the Red Cross Nurse's Training Program. It's a two-year program, and once she's done, she'll be an army nurse-"

"And sent overseas. Yes, I know about Alice Cullen's latest adventure."

"How do you know?" I frowned.

"Carlisle informed me."

"I…I didn't know that you and Carlisle kept in touch throughout the year."

"What do you want me to say about that, Isabella?" Papa Phil asked, sounding abruptly irritated. "Are you trying to tell me that you'd like to join the Red Cross as well? Because I'll tell you right now, that's not going to happen. I'll allow many things, but unlike Carlisle, I draw the line at sending my children overseas during wartime."

"No, Sir," I responded through clenched teeth. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more interested in tending to animals than to people; though I don't know what that says about me."

Papa Phil smiled, and though my scalp prickled at the heavy-handedness of his declaration, I couldn't deny the relief I saw cross his features nor the way his suddenly tense shoulders immediately slackened.

"It simply says you have a compassionate heart, nothing more and nothing less. But again I ask you, Isabella, what do you want from me as pertains to Alice?"

I swallowed thickly. "I was wondering if you could somehow…work something out so that she could get one of those jobs you'd mentioned to Edward a few months ago; those that help the cause yet keep her stateside."

Papa Phil drew in a deep breath, holding my gaze. "What makes you think she'd even want one of those jobs?"

_I don't know that she would, and the fact that she's so much like Edward means she probably won't._

But I wouldn't voice that aloud. "Can you at least _try_?"

He stared at me for one long minute. "I'll speak to Carlisle about it, but Isabella, don't get your hopes up. Carlisle doesn't exactly appreciate my _interference_ in…his children's concerns. That Cullen," he sneered, "and Platt blood is a very potent combination. And if young Alice's husband wasn't able to turn her away from that path, I doubt there's anything we'll be able to do about it. Some people simply have to learn on their own."

"Thank you for at least trying, Papa."

He breathed out through his nostrils and nodded stiffly, making a sweeping motion with his hand indicating I should continue. "What else, Isabella?"

Nerves made me squirm in my seat for a beat too long, and I assume he grew impatient.

"I've received another letter from Edward."

I drew in a deep breath. It was now or never. "Yes, he's told me he's written you – multiple times."

"As I just said, those Cullens are a very stubborn lot…and persistent. He seems to be doing well for himself, despite his haste to enlist, and I'm a big enough man to admit that. Nonetheless, I simply didn't want to see him make mistakes that could've been avoided."

I held his gaze. "But as you just said yourself, sometimes we need to learn for ourselves."

He made a face. "Using my own words against me, Isabella; that's a very clever move. You know, sometimes I'm tempted to agree with your mother," he said, sitting back and knitting his fingers together over his lean torso. "Had you fallen for young Peter, all our lives would've been so much easier. _He_ was able and willing to file for an exemption on the basis that his assistance to me is essential to the war effort. Now _he'll_ be able to finish his education before he's called to serve, and _you_ would've had your young man here safe and sound."

Outwardly, I was outraged at Papa Phil for comparing Edward and Peter – yet inwardly I was envious of Peter's exemption.

"Just as you pointed out that Lauren and I are two different individuals," I hissed shakily, "so are Edward and Peter. My love for Edward goes beyond any hardships to our relationship. _I_ love him _because_ of his scruples, because of his determination to follow his dreams _and_ his conscience! But you, Papa, obviously don't understand how true love works!"

Papa Phil's lips tightened into a straight line, and for one moment, I feared I'd gone too far.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, "it was simply an observation. You know, when you look at me like that, you remind me that you are indeed your mother's daughter."

Now it was my turn to be offended.

He snickered and leaned in closer over the massive desk. "Isabella, despite what you may think, I _do_ understand love." When his voice abruptly softened, I swooped in and took shameless advantage of the compassion in his tone.

"Edwards has begun primary flight training in Georgia," I spluttered anxiously. "The base is only fifteen miles or so from the border with Florida. He's much closer to the Northeast now than when he was in Texas."

"Mm," Papa Phil nodded. Once again, he sat back against his chair, studying me. Standing, he turned and gazed out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the rows of townhouses before him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

"Isabella, let's set aside logistics for the moment. The fact is that you're not even eighteen, and Edward is almost twenty years old. Neither of you are any longer at an age where my main concern with giving you time alone together would be your drowning in the river."

Of course I understood what he was implying, and though I felt the deep flush creeping up my face, I refused to be derailed.

"Whether drowning in a river or visiting him for a weekend, Edward has always been a gentleman, and I'd like to believe myself a lady."

"A young lady and gentleman who are deeply in love."

"I'm sure you don't expect me to refute that; otherwise, why would I be asking to go?"

He chuckled heartily and turned to face me. "With an argument like that, perhaps you should look into law school."

I rolled my eyes. He smiled and came to stand in front of me, leaning against his desk and crossing his legs at his ankles, perfectly polished, black patent leather shoes gleaming brilliantly.

"Put yourself in my shoes. He's even sent me your train fare for God sakes!" he snorted, "which couldn't have been easy for him to save over these past few months. Yet his eagerness is what makes me so wary."

"So you'd be less wary of his intentions if he _wasn't_ anxious to see me," I stated dryly. "I can take a chaperone!" I insisted. "Mrs. Lewis's daughter and son-in-law live in Florida. She talks about them all the time! If you and Mother gave her the time off, I'm sure she wouldn't mind accompanying me to Savannah. Then on our way back, we could spend a couple of days in Tallahassee with her family."

"Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't mind, but that's neither here nor there. Isabella, I realize that this war has altered and in many cases ended plans, but I don't want that to be the case for _you_." He held my gaze meaningfully. "I don't want your life put on hold until his return. And neither do I want a marriage necessitated by an impending separation that got the best of both of you."

"That's not going to happen," I assured him, forcing myself not to look away from his intimidating stare. "As I said, Edward is a gentleman." When he still didn't respond, I added, "I'm getting stellar grades in school, I'm organizing drives, I'm planning on going to college. I _am_ moving on with my life, Papa! But this may be the only time I get to see him before he's shipped overseas!"

Yet he wouldn't give me an answer.

"Please, Papa Phil," I pleaded. "If you truly understand love the way you say you do, if…if you ever loved anyone with all your being, then you'll understand how much this means to me. _Please_, Papa."

He stood and paced the room back and forth, finally stopping in front of the mantel and resting one arm over it as he looked at me.

"You must give me your word that you'll return neither married…nor with child."

My heart gave a hopeful little jump. "I give you my word."

He gave me another one of those prolonged stares that I could only imagine made half of the businessmen in this country cower, but then he released a long, heavy sigh and dropped his shoulders.

"Very well. You may go."

I squealed and jumped up, striding towards him, but he held up one finger in front of me. "You _will_ be taking Mrs. Lewis."

"Yes, Sir," I grinned widely before throwing my arms around him in a quick display of gratitude. Anxious as I was to write Edward and let him know the good news, I pulled away quickly.

"I'm going to write Edward right now so that we can plan-"

"Isabella," Papa Phil called.

I turned around, trying not to let my impatience show. After all, he'd just given me exactly what I wanted.

"Yes, Sir?"

"There was one more thing I needed to speak with you about."

With a curious frown, I made my way back towards the mahogany desk while he picked up an envelope laying in the middle of it – prominently segregated from all other documents scattered over the surface.

"You know, I wasn't joking; it's not too late to remain here in the Northeast and pursue a business major in the fall. Yes, it's a difficult field for a woman to break into, but you have a head for it, and there are very good schools - Cornell, Radcliffe and Bernard, for example - that would be happy to admit someone as intelligent as you into its programs."

"Thank you for your encouragement, but I believe I'm set on veterinary school – if I can get in. The University of Washington has one of the best veterinary school programs in the country, yet less than a handful of women have ever been accepted into the program."

"Is that so?" he exclaimed, though I knew he was aware of this this since we'd gone over my slim chances when I first applied last fall. When a small smile lifted up the corners of his mouth, and he held out the envelope in his hand to me, my heart stopped. "In that case, perhaps you should take a look at this…"

With shaking hands, I took the proffered letter and opened it, my eyes growing wide when I took in the letterhead.

_**University of Washington – School of Veterinary Medicine.**_

_Dear Ms. Dwyer:_

_We are very pleased to…_

I smiled softly, tears stinging my eyes, yet there was such a bittersweet sensation that made my heart ache at that moment. In a perfect world, come Fall, I would've been in school with Edward and Masen. Masen and I would've been in the same program. Edward and I...would've been married.

"I hope you know how proud you've always made me, Isabella," Papa Phil murmured, and this time, when he enveloped me between his warm arms, I didn't immediately pull away.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 40: **_**This Time the Dream's on Me**_** (1942) by Ella Fitzgerald:**

_**Somewhere, someday  
We'll be close together, wait and see  
Oh by the way,  
This time the dream's on me**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page. :)**


	40. Chapter 39 - Cadet in Uniform

**A/N: Hey All! Thanks so much to all of you who've PM'd me and reached out on Facebook and other places to check up on me. I'm okay! So is everyone else. :)**

**I've just had a huge increase in workload lately, and unfortunately it's greatly affected my posting schedule and will probably continue to do so until we're done. :(**

**But here's the next chappy, which has been betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (But then I always add stuff before posting). ;)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 39 – Cadet in Uniform**

In the late 1930s, the city of Savannah, Georgia experienced its own version of a southern renaissance. With the end of the Great Depression finally on the horizon along with the return of disposable income, many people realized that much like its Floridian neighbor, Savannah boasted lovely, warm weather, tropical trees swaying in the breeze, and riverfronts bustling with life. Those more entrepreneur-minded individuals seized the opportunity this presented and built magnificent hotels on the banks of the Wilmington River, hoping to capture some share in the market of those seeking fun in the sun. As a result, Savannah became more than just the unofficial dividing line between east and south. It became a tourist destination in and of itself.

Then came the attack on Pearl Harbor and declaration of war.

Overnight, nearby bases were suddenly filled to the brim with troops-in-training, and the Savannah waterfront was transformed into a shipbuilding industry as well as an embarkation point for sending off cargo and troops to war. In the spring of 1942, the Savannah City Council adopted an ordinance declaring the entire Savannah waterfront a restricted zone. The ordinance was designed to protect the port from German U-boat attacks, as well as to protect the military cargo ships being loaded and unloaded along the piers.

So much for Savannah's renaissance.

And as the Atlantic Coast Line's Train Number 26 made its way towards this borderline southern/eastern town late on a warm afternoon in April of 1942, I took in the changing scenery before me: the rolling hills of the east giving way to the vast flatlands of the south, city streets paved in concrete morphing into smooth pieces of cobblestone, the cool waters of the Hudson replaced by the warmer waters of the Wilmington River, and short-leaved hardwood trees giving way to rows and rows of oak trees canopied in flowing, Spanish moss.

"Mrs. Lewis, can you believe that with all my travels from one coast to another, I've never actually been this far south?"

I barely noted the lack of response, busy as I was exploring these new sights from the window of our well-appointed, private train car. Mind you, I'd begged Papa Phil to allow me to travel like any normal seventeen-year old, sharing common cars while sleeping on a Pullman.

Big mistake.

Papa Phil had stormed and railed for close to a half hour, bellowing about how he'd already given in to enough of my whims by allowing me to visit Edward in the first place, and by God, he drew the line at allowing me to travel exposed and unprotected in a train full of eager, anxious young men.

And when I'd written Edward an indignant letter complaining about Papa's heavy-handed unreasonableness, I'd been shocked – and slightly disappointed – by the fact that he'd chosen this particular instance in which to fully agree with my stepfather.

"Tell me, Mrs. Lewis, from what we've seen so far, does Savannah much resemble Flo-"

I turned my attention back to Mrs. Lewis, Mother's head housekeeper in New York and my companion and chaperone on this trip, only to find her with her head thrown back against the headrest, mouth wide open and fast asleep - yet again.

Over the past couple of days and nights, I'd been unable to deny Mrs. Lewis her well-deserved reprieve from Mother. As my thanks to her for agreeing to come all this way with me, I'd freely allowed her to indulge in all the little luxuries she perceived as benefits to chaperoning Philip Dwyer the Second's stepdaughter down the east coast of the country: private sleeper cars, gourmet fare, a porter at her beck and call…all comforts which she bravely endured and followed up with many long, food-induced naps.

But since we were almost there, I nudged her carefully. "Mrs. Lewis?"

Nothing.

"Mrs. Lewis?"

Snores answered me.

"Mrs. Lewis!"

She sat up straight. "Huh? What? Oh, Miss Isabella! Is there something I can help you with? Should I ask the porter to bring us some more of those delicious sweet rolls we had with our lunch this afternoon?"

'_We'_ was a debatable term. Over the past couple of days, I'd come to learn that when she wasn't cleaning Mother's rooms, Mrs. Lewis was actually extremely fond of eating – especially the sweet rolls generously sprinkled with sugar that were served on the train. Therefore, as my chaperone, she solved both our problems by eating most of my meal portions daily since I was way too nervous and anxious to eat much.

"No, I'm fine; thank you, Mrs. Lewis. I was actually-"

"Or perhaps I should ask him to bring us some more coffee," she suggested. "With sugar being rationed now, it's been weeks since I've had a decent cup, yet they're so generous with it here!"

"Uh…no, I'm honestly just fine - although you're more than welcome to request some coffee and rolls for yourself," I added at her obvious disappointment.

"I wouldn't want to appear greedy."

"Well…you can tell them it's for me," I suggested.

She grinned widely. "Then if you don't mind-"

A knock on the sliding door to our sitting room was followed by our personal porter sticking in his head. "Miss Dwyer, we're arriving at Savannah's Union Station. Shall I help you and your companion with your luggage?"

I looked at Mrs. Lewis, who appeared ready to cry at having missed her final opportunity for sweet rolls and properly-sugared coffee.

"Actually, if you please, I'd truly appreciate one last batch of sweet rolls and coffee?"

"Uh…of course," he agreed, and next to me, Mrs. Lewis all but squealed.

"I'll come with you in case you need a second set of hands to carry the rolls!" she offered, scurrying away behind the porter.

With a sigh, I gathered my bag and toiletry case – as well as Mrs. Lewis' bag, and as the conductor announced our arrival, I stepped off of the train into the warm and somewhat sticky Savannah air. Behind me, a row of newly-inaugurated troop sleepers also emptied of its passengers - young men dressed in uniform, carrying duffels and appearing as eager as I did. Despite the catcalls and whistles, the teasing salutes and the plentiful offers for help with my luggage or an actual date, I simply smiled as they passed me.

A tall, lanky, dark-skinned boy in uniform stopped in front of me outright. "Say, Beautiful," he grinned, "are you here for the USO dance tomorrow evening at the Oglethorpe?"

"Yes," I smiled. "I'm meeting my beau here in Savannah, and we'll attend the dance together."

He sucked his teeth, dropping his head and making a big production of his disappointment, yet when he looked back up, his grin was as wide as ever. Behind him, a few other boys in uniform, friends of his I assumed, jeered and laughed at him.

"Why is it that the pretty ones are always taken?" he moaned. "Your beau in the service?"

"Yes," I nodded. "He's a pilot."

"A pilot?" The boy raised his brows. "Is he flying out with that bomber unit leaving from Savannah Air Base in a couple of weeks? The ones going to join the RAF over there in England?"

"There are units already leaving?" I asked.

"Course there are," the boy grinned. "Them Tommies need help over there, being shot out of the sky left and right as they are!"

My eyes blinked furiously; compensating, I suppose, for a mouth that couldn't move.

"Hey, Beautiful, you okay?"

I drew in a few uneven breaths and managed to blink myself out of my stupor – though why I was so affected by the boy's words I still don't know. I _knew_ what war meant; I _knew_ where Edward would eventually be headed.

"Edward is in primary flight school at Moody Airfield," I said, stupidly attempting to explain myself.

"Oh, he's a pilot in training," the boy nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"Let it go, Dawson!" one of his rowdy friends exclaimed. "Whether her beau's in training or already a pilot, she ain't gonna trade him in for you!"

The rest of the boys all burst out laughing, while the dark-skinned boy rolled his eyes. With his inky hair and ebony features, even his playful attitude, he reminded me of Jacob, and I felt the familiar ache in my chest that always accompanied thoughts of him now.

The boy had been speaking while I reminisced.

"…way to Savannah Air Base to train to be a navigator. Being a pilot's great and all, but what good does that plane do him if he don't know where to drop them bombs?"

"I'm sorry," I smiled half-heartedly while an image suddenly rolled around in my head of Edward flying a plane that dropped bombs over unsuspecting people, "but you'll have to excuse me as I really must be going."

Making my way around the boy, I resolved to wait for Mrs. Lewis under the Spanish-tiled canopy up ahead.

"It was nice to meet you anyhow!" the boy called out. "And hey, good luck to your cadet! I hope he gives 'em hell when it's his turn!"

Their young, rambunctious laughter followed behind me, and when I turned around, they were all giving each other high-fives and pats on the back, making faux explosion noises the way you'd expect from teenagers like them, talking about 'blasting them Nazis off the face of the earth!'

"Good luck to you too!" I called out. "Good luck and…and God Bless you all and keep you safe!"

Their laughter abruptly ceased. For a few, long seconds, they just stared at me, and after gracing me with smiles that were now much more reserved, they made their way out of the station.

OOOOOOOOOO

Papa Phil had made arrangements for Mrs. Lewis and myself at the nearby General Oglethorpe Hotel on Wilmington Island. The hotel was owned by some business associates of his and had been designed by the same architect who'd designed the Waldorf-Astoria. The General Oglethorpe was, at the time, considered the pinnacle of luxury in Savannah, with a golf course, tennis courts, an English garden, riverside pools and large docks – though due to the ordinance, the docks were off limits to civilians for the foreseeable future.

The hotel was frequently patronized by a friend of Papa Phil's whom he'd met through some acquaintances in the entertainment industry: a young, up-and-coming singer by the name of _Frank_. You may have heard of him.

Now Frank had just recently been released from his contract with a _very_ popular band and was now at the top of the billboard male singer charts – though rumors were that Frank's…godfather had made the band leader an "offer he couldn't refuse" to let his godson out of his contract when the young man decided he wanted to strike out on his own. Whether the rumor was true or not, I honestly can't say – though Hollywood certainly had a grand old time dramatizing the tale a few decades later.

Anyway, as a favor to Papa Phil, Frank had agreed to be a last-minute addition to the USO dance being held in the hotel's ballroom on the following evening.

A large poster advertising the dance and tacked to a glass-enclosed display greeted us as we exited the checkered cab late that afternoon. Inside the hotel, military personnel were everywhere, bypassing us as they carried chairs, tablecloths, sharply-polished silver, empty punch bowls, stacks of cloth napkins, and an American flag folded into a triangle and personally escorted by a young soldier, who reverently held it close to his chest.

And with every person that rushed by carrying another item for the dance, the nauseous feeling that had rumbled in my stomach at the train terminal faded more and more while the excitement and anticipation in my heart soared.

In less than twenty-four hours, I'd be with my cadet.

OOOOOOOOOO

Once we'd settled into our two-bedroom suite, I carefully unpacked and hung up the dress I'd be wearing to tomorrow's dance: a black, sleeveless, silk number, cut narrowly from shoulders to underarms to give the illusion of a more generous bust-line than I actually possessed. Fully open in the back, the dress had black, silk-covered buttons down the entire front of the dress. It narrowed at the waist before billowing to just above my knees, and a wide, red sash highlighted one of the few, physical features of which I was actually proud: my small waistline.

Mother had generously had the dress made for me, paying a small fortune – or so she'd told me - for the silk since with the war in the east, silk had become a rare commodity. When I'd first seen it, though I'd found it beautiful and _perfect_ for swing-dancing, I'd also proclaimed it to be an embarrassing waste of resources when said resources were needed elsewhere.

Mother had insisted it _was_ a necessity.

But then again, she'd never meant for me to wear the dress to dance with Edward.

It was meant for my graduation party in a few months, not for a classless display in the middle of nowhere, where I would slink further away from the social standing to which, had I any sense whatsoever, I should be aspiring to obtain.

Or something like that. I honestly can't remember her exact wording when she'd caught me packing the dress for the trip, but the intent was the same.

Nevertheless, a half hour screaming match later coupled with pulling and snatching on both sides ended with the dress neatly packed in my suitcase and Mother storming out of my room, refusing to speak to me even as I left on my trip.

Once I'd finished unpacking, I put my lace gloves and matching hat back on and knocked on the door to Mrs. Lewis' bedroom, waiting a full five minutes for her to appear at the door. She finally did, dressed in one of the plush robes the hotel provided, her hair already up in rollers and face cream smeared on her chin, cheeks and forehead.

"Oh…" I said slowly. "I thought it would be nice if we took a walk and stretched our legs after being on that train for two full days."

She bit her lower lip. "Honestly, _I_ was hoping to just stay in for the rest of the night, perhaps order in some supper and sweet rolls, especially since I'll have to chaperone you at that dance tomorrow evening."

Now Papa Phil's instruction to Mrs. Lewis had clearly stated that she was not to leave me alone for one second unless it was to go to the bathroom or to bed – alone. Therefore, I was more than a bit disappointed by her unwillingness to explore as it seemed that _I'd_ have to stay in as well.

"Perhaps…perhaps I could step out on my own then, just for a little while, if you don't mind?"

She raised a brow. "Will you order me room service before you go?"

"Done."

OOOOOOOOOO

_**Mrs. Lewis and I have arrived safe and sound. Stop.**_

_**As you requested, will wire again from Tallahassee. Stop.**_

_**Thank you so much, Papa. All my love. Stop.**_

_**Isabella M. Dwyer.**_

After completing a telegram for Papa Phil and another, similar one for Charlie and leaving them both with the concierge, I set off to explore.

Though Savannah itself was beautiful, signs of the war were everywhere. The river's breeze picked up my hair and skirt as I wandered down to the dock behind the hotel, yet that was as far as I could go. The dock itself had been closed off by fences with large, wooden signs reading: "No Trespassing by order of the U.S. Military." Curling my fingers around the fence's chains, I stood there for a while and watched as just beyond, large ships were loading boxes and crates of cargo. People in muted, military dress busily walked about, and I thought how strange it was that we should be here for a dance when only God knew what was going on beyond those fences.

After a while, I turned and made my way down streets where for every civilian, there seemed to be a young man – or woman – in uniform strolling about as well. When I'd seen enough, I made my way back to the hotel and an already-sleeping Mrs. Lewis.

Late the next morning, after ordering Mrs. Lewis a large breakfast with lots and lots of sweet rolls, which filled her belly and made her burp in a quite unladylike manner, she fell asleep again, this time sprawled over the upholstered sofa. Yet as nervous and anxious as I was, there was no way I'd be able to just sit in my room until early afternoon, when Edward was due to finally arrive in Savannah. We'd agreed to meet in the lobby of the General Oglethorpe at 2:00 p.m., where we'd reunite and spend a few hours together exploring before the dance began at 7:00 p.m. that evening.

Therefore, to distract myself for the next couple of hours so that I wouldn't go mad while waiting, I dressed casually in a comfortable, cotton button-down white shirt, a grey skirt and white ankle socks. I had a bad knack for getting runs in my nylons, and with the new rationing of nylon for the war effort, I needed to be careful with my precious few because even Mother hadn't been able to do anything about procuring more of those.

Venturing into the lobby, I strolled through the dance hall where preparations were definitely underway for the dance. Huge ribbons in patriotic colors were tied around the ornamental swags on each floor-to-ceiling window. The stage had been decorated with two majestic American flags hanging from the ceiling in between which hung a white "USO" sign. The podium on the left side of the stage was also wrapped in an American flag, and as I stood there taking it all in, a middle-aged lady in hotel uniform walked by carrying a vase in each hand.

"Is there anything I can help with?" I asked.

She answered me in heavily-accented English. "Mademoiselle, we have it all in hand, but if you are determined to assist…"

A while later, after I'd set up all the vases and flowers, I was moved on to napkin folding. Marguerite had given me a quick lesson, and I for one was pretty proud of the results. We made small talk in her native French, and she assured me that I spoke it quite well, which I'm sure would've greatly pleased Mother – knowing that not _all_ her efforts had been in vain.

When Marguerite went to find more napkins, I stayed behind and folded those remaining, placing one over each table setting as I hummed a tune to myself about a bugle boy from Company B, swaying my hips in anticipation of the night. Fanning out the ends of a napkin as I'd been instructed, I quickly glanced up from my task to see how many more tables I had to go…

…and lost my breath on a sharp gasp when I was lifted off the floor and swung around in mid-air before being crushed against a strong, unyielding chest.

"_Edward?"_

I breathed bewilderedly against my captor's shoulder and pressed my face deep into the crook of his warm neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I was assaulted by a wonderfully familiar scent that had the happiest images of damp woods and carefree laughter and stolen kisses by a river dancing before my closed lids. Afraid that I was daydreaming, I could barely manage to rest my hands on his shoulders, petrified that doing so would have disastrous consequences - like the total disappearance of his warmth and his touch.

"Edward?"

My captor set me down and cradled my face between strong hands, barely giving me a second to get a good look at him or to catch my breath before crashing his mouth to mine. And as his sweet and tender lips molded themselves around my lips, as he anxiously nipped and tugged with the same pent up need and desperation I was feeling, I slowly allowed myself to hope…

"Is it really you?" I asked when he finally let me up for air and began trailing his burning mouth to my jaw and neck.

"It better be me you're allowing to kiss you this way," he growled in between kisses, trailing right back up to my mouth, "or else we've got a serious problem."

When I finally dared open my eyes, they locked instantly on the most beautiful, evergreen eyes in existence.

"Edward!" I jumped up and wrapped both arms and legs around him, squealing in delight. "Edward, it's you! You're here! You're here!"

He laughed heartily, pulling away only enough to hold my gaze. "I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm here," he breathed before finding my lips once more.

OOOOOOOOOO

Turned out, I'd lost track of time, and after waiting in the lobby for close to twenty minutes, Edward had asked the concierge for me and had been directed into the ballroom.

"I'm so sorry," I exclaimed over and over while I basked in his sunlight, in the feel of our fingers tangled together as we swung our hands between each other and walked through the hotel lobby and towards the street. "I can't believe that I've been counting down the minutes to see you, and then I go and lose track of time!"

He chuckled and stopped us mid-stride, turning to face me.

"I told you, it's fine. I just had a small heart attack thinking you'd changed your mind and not come is all. But I'll be okay once my ticker starts up again," he teased, his lips twitching with humor as he gazed at me.

And though I'd gone through this same feeling of awe with Edward yearly since the first summer I'd met him, this time was different.

The southern sun had given his skin a golden glow that just wasn't possible in the muted, summer sun of Forks. Somehow, he seemed to stand taller, straighter. He held his cap under his arm, so I could see how the short crop of his hair managed to accentuate his classically angular-shaped face all the more. His uniform was impeccably starched, the fitted, brown jacket framing strong, wide shoulders and outlining a build that, though always lean and toned, had definitely developed more muscle in the past few months. The tan-colored uniform shirt and matching tie tucked neatly inside his brown jacket gave him an edge of control and authority. And as he stood there grinning crookedly at me, it was both mentally and _physically_ stimulating to simply stand there and openly admire him.

##########

"Nana, you fresh girl," Olivia teases, "are you actually saying that the sight of your copper-haired young man in uniform was getting you hot and bothered?"

"Olivia!" Isabella scolds.

"Yes, it most certainly was," I smile. "Quite hot and bothered, and mind you, it was already pretty hot in Savannah, so you can imagine how I must've felt." I fan myself at the memory.

Both girls burst out laughing, throwing back their heads and howling at the strangely blue, Washington sky. Meanwhile, my daughter Leah drops her head and shakes it from side to side, but I can see the smile lifting up the corners of her mouth. Behind me, Isabella snickers quietly.

##########

Anyway, based on the copious amount of female attention that followed him, side-eyeing him on the sly, or even boldly trying – and failing – to catch his gaze as we walked, I wasn't the only one hot and bothered by Edward in uniform.

"What?" he asked after I suppose I'd stared for a beat too long without saying a word.

"Your uniform…you look…extremely handsome," I admitted.

He chuckled a bit sheepishly, his cheeks tinting a shade darker than the rest of him. Though when he asked,

"You like the uniform, huh?" he sounded rather smug and stood even straighter.

"Yes," I grinned. "I like it. I like it quite a bit."

OOOOOOOOOO

We walked the Savannah streets for miles, our arms wrapped around each other's waists, talking and catching up on so much. He told me about his time at the base, how glad he was to be done with pre-flight training, which had consisted of marching, drilling, exercising, bed-making, some hand gun and hand-to-hand combat training thrown in there for good measure, and no more than a quick demo on parachuting.

"'After all', our CO told us," Edward grinned, imitating a thick, Southern accent, "y'all ain't here to be paratroopers! That's for them brave boys further south!"

Now that he'd moved on to Primary, though the marching, drilling, exercising and perfect bed-making remained, he was actually being taught to fly in something called a PT-22, which he explained was an open cockpit, two seat aircraft.

"And next week, if all goes well, I get to fly the darn thing all by myself."

As nervous as Edward's military aspirations had always made me, the irrepressible excitement in his voice was infectious, and I found myself excited along with him. He was elated about General Doolittle's successful air raid on Tokyo the previous week and the morale boost it had given the men of the Air Force as well as the entire nation.

"We've been losing every single battle in the Pacific since Pearl Harbor was attacked," I said worriedly. "And General MacArthur was forced to retreat from the Philippines…"

"Yeah, but now with Doolittle's raid, we've proven to both people here at home as well as those in Japan that their empire is not _invincible_," he snarled.

That conversation led to the more sobering topic of the forced relocation of all those of Japanese descent – including those Japanese born in the U.S. – further inland and into internment camps away from the West Coast.

"They claim that all those people pose a risk, but do you remember Mrs. Ito," I asked Edward, "who used to help your mom in the soup kitchens?"

He nodded. "Of course I do."

"She's something like fourth generation Japanese and so far removed from the Japanese culture that no one in her family even speaks the language, yet they were forced out of their home and into a camp a couple of weeks ago. Your dad tried to help, to vouch for them, but nothing worked."

Edward shook his head disgustedly, his grip on my hand tightening with his ire.

"You know, I've supported and agreed with many of FDR's policies and decisions leading up to this war, but this…this is…repulsive," he sneered, his eyes narrowed into angry slits as he glared straight ahead. "I get the anger and the fear, I do. But if we relocated people descended from every nationality we're fighting in this war, we'd have to relocate half of the country!"

I nodded my head vehemently, agreeing wholeheartedly, and in that one moment, I felt such a surge of love for Edward, as well as an understanding of _why_ I loved him so much. It wasn't just that we agreed on such things; it was the fact that ever since we were kids, he'd always spoken with me so openly about everything, rarely stopping himself because I was female - never limiting his topics to those he thought appropriate for a woman.

"This goddamn war – I'm sorry for my language, Sweetheart. We've got to put an end to it before it completely turns everyone on this entire planet into animals." He stopped us and turned me towards him so that he could hold my gaze. "This isn't the world I want for you, Sweetheart. For us…for our children. You deserve so much better than this, and…and if I can do my part, however small, in bringing about a better world for you…" He trailed off, looking away while his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"I understand," I murmured quietly, staring down at my feet.

He lifted my chin with his fingers, bringing my eyes back to his. "Do you?" The back of his fingers tenderly stroked my cheek. "I hope you do, Bella. I pray every night that you understand that I _never_ wanted things to be this way."

"I do, my love," I assured him. "You didn't cause any of this, Edward," I reminded him. "I…I just miss you so. I miss speaking with you in person, and in my dreams, none of this ever happened, and come fall, we would've been…we would've been at the university together."

There was more that happened in my dreams…a backyard wedding…making love in an unknown, warm bed, but I didn't voice that part of my dream.

Nevertheless, he swallowed thickly, his eyes suddenly so anguished. "I was so proud of you when you wrote me of your acceptance to the University," he grinned. "I told all the fellows on base about it, though a lot of them couldn't get why I'd be happy about my girl going to med school."

I shook my head, lifting a brow. "Well, they'd better get used to things like that. Everywhere I go, it seems as if every man between eighteen and forty is in uniform! Someone's going to have to step in to keep the businesses and factories going while you men are away!"

"That's true," he grinned. "I suppose we'll see what happens." We smiled at one another, and then he pulled me into his arms again, holding me tightly and kissing my hair.

"God, how I ached to hold you and kiss you and congratulate you properly."

I tilted my head up to him. "Well, you can do it now."

He gave me a melancholic smile, brushing my cheek with his fingers and softly pressing his lips to mine. "Congratulations, Sweetheart," he breathed. "I always knew you could do it."

OOOOOOOOOO

We wandered into an ice-cream shop where Edward bought us lunch and we sat together on the same side of a narrow booth, discussing Masen and his imminent departure overseas.

"Rose writes that Masen hasn't been told exactly where he's headed yet, though he's been told to be ready to depart by month's end."

Edward nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his Liberty Steak.

"Well, he's been told that his company will be departing from Camp Kilmer, which means he's headed either to North Africa or Europe." He paused. "Philip's agreed to allow Rose to come stay with you in New York once you return, until Masen ships out?"

I nodded, silently recalling Papa Phil's subdued acquiescence to my request. He'd stood by the mantel, facing the quiet embers of the fireplace and simply nodded at my request for permission to take off from school for a few days upon my return from Savannah. I'd expected more of a fight, complaints about my missing school, about my asking for so much lately. But he'd simply nodded and then asked me to leave the room because he had work to finish – a request he'd never made before.

"Yes," I responded to Edward. "I'll be staying with her at the townhouse until we receive word from Masen, since there's no way to know exactly when he'll ship off."

He shook his head. "Mase hates the idea of her traveling when she's five months along. At least if they had more exact information, but they do it that way on purpose – which I guess is necessary or else entire companies of men'll be sitting ducks out in those waters."

I swallowed thickly, too cowardly to even allow myself to imagine Edward's imminent departure overseas.

But Edward was still lost in thought over his brother.

"If they send him to North Africa," he mused, "there's Rommel to deal with, who keeps pushing the Allied forces back. And though I've heard that all the ground troops are doing right now in Europe are cooling their heels while they wait to invade mainland Europe, that's not gonna be pretty when it does happen."

I cringed inwardly. "But that's not what the Air Forces are doing, is it - cooling their heels?"

He met my gaze and slowly shook his head.

_Them Tommies need help over there, being shot out of the sky left and right…_

"Then there's Alice," I said, needing to change the subject.

"I knew she wouldn't take that stateside job," Edward said quickly, apparently as anxious as I to take my mind off of the extremely dangerous occupation he'd chosen in which to do his part.

"Nevertheless, I had to try. She's like my sister, and things are so bad between us right now…and I feel as if this is all my fault."

He took my hand over the table and leaned in close. "How could this possibly be your fault? Alice has always wanted to…spread her wings, and yes, I know," he snorted quickly before I could comment, "who am I to speak?"

"It's just…I knew," I murmured quietly. "I always knew she wanted more. I wish I could-"

"You wish you could what?" he interrupted me. "What could you have done, Sweetheart?"

I held his gaze while a myriad of different endings for that sentence rang through my head.

_I wish I could have stayed with her. _

_I wish I could have brought her along with me wherever I went. _

_I wish she wasn't so much like you._

"There's nothing you could have done, Bella," he said at my silence, leaning back.

"I would have you and I trade places with her and Jasper in an instant," I blurted. "I'd help the cause stateside any way I could and happily have you 4F next to me. And I'm sorry because I know that's not what you'd want."

And though I'd apologized, the words spilled out unapologetically.

I could see the guilt creeping up his features.

"Bella…God, Bella…"

"Don't," I smiled, picking up his hand and kissing his palm, which was rougher than I remembered it being. He closed his eyes and smiled back weakly. "I _do_ understand, Edward. I _know_ it's hard for you too, and I don't mean to make it harder." I chuckled, trying to alleviate some of the tension. "But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't take it in a heartbeat."

He gazed at me ruefully and then slid his hand around the nape of my neck, moving in so close that his lips almost touched mine as he spoke.

"Someday, after this damn war is over," he whispered, "I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you, trying to find a way to prove to you that nothing in this world has ever been more important to me than you are. From the moment I found you in that river…my life has been yours."

"You don't have to prove that to me," I whispered back, "I feel it every time we're together."

OOOOOOOOOO

On our way back to the General Oglethorpe, we stopped at the hotel's English gardens, strolling through the rolling lawn and the pebbled pathways, stopping to inhale the warm scents of the gardenias and lavender.

"You're going to get in trouble!" I hissed lowly when Edward picked a red, English rose from a bush. But he merely chuckled, ignoring my warning as he carefully twisted the flower off its thorns before turning to me. Gently, he pushed back my hair and slid in the flower, his fingers skimming down the strands before ghosting a trail to my cheek as he pulled his hand away.

"A flower without thorns for a woodland nymph who deserves so much more."

I chuckled, and he moved back, tilted his head sideways to admire his handy work.

"It's pretty…but it pales next to you."

Though I rolled my eyes, his words warmed me. "It'll match the sash on my dress for this evening."

Despite the fact that we were in a public garden, he wrapped his arms around my waist, and I brought my hands up to his lapels, admiring and fingering the golden wings pinned to either one.

"I can't wait to see you in it," he breathed, kissing me softly. "Not that you don't look simply gorgeous right now."

"Mmm," I hummed against his lips. "It's a pretty dress, but honestly, I think _I'll_ pale next to you in that uniform."

He snickered heartily and gave me one of his crooked grins. "I think you've just missed me – which you won't find me complaining about. Bella, you're the one who somehow manages to grow more and more beautiful with each passing day." He sighed, his eyes drinking me in while his hand cupped my cheek. I pressed my face into the warmth of his palm, puckering my lips against it, grazing it with the tip of my tongue before meeting his gaze.

I watched, mesmerized as his eyes darkened, and he made a breathy noise that sent a sharp little thrill up my spine. When he spoke, his voice was low and throaty.

"I gave my word that I'd behave myself this weekend."

"I know," I murmured. "I was forced to give my word as well, but…"- I swallowed - "Papa Phil was very…specific as to what he didn't want. He didn't mention kisses or…" I trailed off, feeling my face flush under Edward's intense gaze. And though he didn't respond, I saw the way his breathing sped up, the way his chest suddenly heaved up and down against mine, making me tingle where it pressed against me.

"Bella…" he breathed, "how is it possible for me to love you…to want you this much? Sometimes…sometimes I lie awake in my bunk, and I can't breathe from it, from how much I need you."

My breath hitched, and Edward quickly shook his head as if to clear it, taking a step backwards away from me and clearing his throat, though his hand remained tightly wrapped around mine.

He placed his cap back over his head and stretched out his free hand with a flourish.

"Alright, M'Lady," he teased as he'd been doing since we were kids. "I think it's time we get you back up to your tower so that you may change for tonight's grand ball."

"I'd rather remain locked in the tower…alone with you," I admitted.

We had fewer than 48 hours together until only God knew when; I wasn't about to play coy with him.

But Edward threw back his head and laughed out loud, sounding so darned happy it pierced my soul, and when he brought his eyes back to me, they were full of so much love it almost hurt.

"You, Bella Marie Dwyer, are going to be the death of me. Unfortunately," he grinned, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger, "your chaperone is here to ensure that there's none of that."

I sighed, pursing my lips. "Dear Papa Phil and his ability to control everything from even eight hundred miles away."

He chuckled softly, studying me. "You're different, Bella…bolder."

I ran my fingers through the short buzz at the nape of his neck, enjoying the way it prickled their tips. "We've only a short time together," I murmured. "I won't pretend I haven't missed your kisses…or your touch."

His heated gaze scorched right through me. "Oh, Sweetheart," he said shakily, making me smile at the term of endearment I'd missed so much at the same time that my knees went weak. "By the time I'm done kissing you this weekend, you won't be able to feel your lips for months."

I laughed, but my giggles died away when he pressed his soft lips to mine, teasing _me_ with his tongue now while he moved in so close that when his hand lifted and discreetly slid inside the hem of my blouse, it was impossible for anyone to see. His long fingers stroked the skin at my waist, stretching out as far as they could go, over my ribs and just under my…

And when he pulled away, he held my gaze as if gauging my reaction.

I stood on my tip toes and tapped my lips to his softly, letting him know silently that I craved him, that I craved his mouth and his hands and…

And we were out in public, and this was 1942, and we were already bending the rules of propriety. Yet the way his eyes burned let me know that he craved me too, and that if we somehow happened to get the chance, he'd make good on what his eyes promised.

As much as I didn't want the hours to pass, as much as I wanted to freeze the hands of time and have them keep me here with Edward forever, at the same time, the evening couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 41: He Wears a Pair of Silver Wings (1942) by Kay Kyser:**

_**Although some people say he's just a crazy guy**__**  
**__**To me he means a million other things**__**  
**__**For he's the one who taught this happy heart of mine to fly**__**  
**__**He wears a pair of silver wings**_

*****HISTORY LESSON FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED*****

**There are lots of history lessons in this chapter:**

**As a port city, Savannah, Georgia's contribution to the war effort was significant. The Savannah community was greatly involved in wartime production through the conversion of the Port of Savannah into a military cargo port and through the development of wartime industries such as manufacturing paper, asphalt, naval ships and so much more. In addition, Savannah's citizens served in every arm of the armed forces. Savannah is also the birthplace of the 'Mighty Eighth,' the Eighth Air Force of the United States, which we'll be learning MUCH more about. **

**The first combat group of the Mighty Eighth arrived in the U.K. as part of the 97****th**** Bombardment Group on June 9, 1942. The 97****th**** Bombardment took over the job of strategic daytime bombings of continental Europe from the British Isles, with a mission to support an eventual invasion of the continent. Though the Eighth Air Force provided a tremendous boost to the Royal Air Force, which had up to this point been on the verge of collapse and only able to carry out nighttime raids of the continent, casualties were extremely high for the men in the air in those first months of the war. **

_**Frank**_**…well, you guys will have to figure out on your own who **_**Frank**_** was – though it is true that he and his friends (such as Dean and Jackie) were frequent guests of the General Oglethorpe Hotel, a hotel which was rumored to be owned by mobsters.**

**Rationing:**

**In the first half of 1942, many items were already being rationed in the U.S.: the automobile industry had stopped making cars and turned its factories 100% into the production of war machines. **

**Rubber was the first commodity to be rationed, and rationing gasoline, it was reasoned, would conserve rubber by reducing the number of miles Americans drove. In mid-May, the first 17 states put mandatory gasoline rationing into effect, and by December, controls were extended across the entire country. Ration stamps for gasoline were issued and pasted to the windshield of a family or individual's automobile. The type of stamp determined the gasoline allotment for that automobile, as did the essentialness of the work one did. For example, policemen and mail carriers were rationed more gasoline. In a separate attempt to reduce gas consumption, the government passed a mandatory wartime speed limit of 35 mph, known as the "Victory Speed."**

**Sugar was rationed, coffee, and…nylons.**

**Nylon was introduced at the New York World Fair in 1940, a sheer, wrinkle-free, bunching-free and inexpensive type of hose that women went out and bought in droves. Less than two years later, it was rationed since nylon was used to make parachutes and other supplies for soldiers. No new nylons were made, and women were encouraged to donate those nylons with runs to the war effort. Once these poor women ran out of nylons, many resorted to drawing long, black lines down the back of their legs to give the 'illusion' of wearing nylons.**

**The ****Doolittle Raid****, also known as the ****Tokyo Raid****, on April 18, 1942, was an air raid ****by the U.S. on the Japanese capital****, Tokyo, ****and other places on Honshu ****island. It was the first air raid to strike the Japanese Home Islands and demonstrated that Japan itself was vulnerable to American air attack, served as retaliation for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, and provided an important boost to U.S. morale ****while damaging Japanese morale.****The raid was planned and led by Lieutenant Colonel James "Jimmy" Doolittle, U.S. Army Air Forces.**

**The ****internment of Japanese Americans ****in the U.S. was the forced relocation and incarceration during**** WWII ****of between 110,000 and 120,000 ****people of Japanese ancestry ****who lived on the Pacific coast in camps in the interior of the country. Sixty-two percent of the internees were U.S. citizens.****The U.S. government ordered the removal of Japanese Americans in 1942, shortly after the Pearl Harbor attacks. **

**Camp Kilmer****, New Jersey is a former U.S. Army camp that was activated in the spring of 1942 as a staging area and embarkation are for the Army Service Forces Transportation Corps. Troops were quartered at Camp Kilmer in preparation for transport to the European Theater of Operations in WW2. Eventually, it became the largest processing center for troops heading overseas and returning from World War II, processing over 2.5 million soldiers. ****At Camp Kilmer troops sent personal effects home, received medical injections and the supplies needed before loading onto transport ships for travel to the European Theater of Operations. **

**Next chapter, I'll include more info (for those interested) on what exactly Edward's months of pilot training consisted of. Air Force pilot training took much longer than most other military trainings during WWII.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all again soon!**


	41. Chapter 40 - Beyond the USO Dance

**A/N: Thanks to those who have hung in there despite my erratic posting schedule. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

**Chapter 40 – Beyond the USO Dance**

* * *

"Tell us about the dance, Nana. Did you have a good time?"

The look of anticipation on Skye's pretty, young face brings what now passes for a brilliant smile to my much more withered one - wrinkled skin crinkling all the more at the corners of my eyes and mouth. Yet it reminds me that we're all more or less the same at her age. In the springtime of our lives, when our thoughts turn to love and parties, when our minds are captured by flights of fancy…well then…regardless of the horrors knocking at our door, all of that quickly takes a back seat.

"Was it everything you'd been hoping for?" Olivia further questions.

When I close my eyes, I'm transported to a warm, sultry evening almost three-quarters of a century in the past, where laughing girls shuffled their feet while their cadets swung them around the dance floor...where smooth strings and loud percussions reverberated loudly in my ears…where the excited screams of young girls filled my senses as the young man with the famous blue eyes took the stage…where Edward's arms encircled me…his quickly-pounding heart beating against mine afterwards…when the night was finally over and finally just beginning…

"Was it everything I'd been hoping for?" I echo. "Well, it was…it was life-altering."

##########

We were in the elevator on our way to my suite so that I could change for the dance, and I was staring down at my feet, pressing my lips together tightly to contain the misplaced laughter bubbling inside me every time I caught a glimpse of the red flush creeping up Edward's handsome face.

"Did you enlist or were you drafted, young man?" the tuxedoed, elderly gentleman sharing the elevator with us asked. Along with the tux, he sported a long, white beard and a slightly out-of-fashion top hat.

Edward cleared his throat. "I enlisted, Sir, the day after Pearl Harbor was attacked."

"Very good, very good," the gentleman replied.

"And where are you completin' your trainin'?" his wife asked in a sultry, Georgian drawl.

In her late thirties or early forties, she appeared much younger than her husband as she stood elegantly dressed in a two-piece evening gown: a long, fitted, gold-lamé dress, tightly nipped in at the waist, with a very low, heart-shaped neckline that highlighted a more-than-generous décolletage. The short, matching bolero jacket she wore was fitted with stiff, shoulder pads while the ridiculously-huge diamond around her neck settled heavily over the tight valley between her breasts, glittering brilliantly and making it almost impossible _not_ to look.

Yet Edward was making a valiant effort, and by moving in closer to him every time she spoke, the woman was making it quite the challenge.

Ever respectful, Edward held her gaze steadily. "For now, Ma'am, I'm at Moody Field."

"And where is Moody Field?" she asked as she took another step towards him.

"It's near Valdosta, close to the border with Florida," he sputtered as he took a step back and looked away.

"That must be horrible, bein' moved all about the country in such a vagabond manner," the buxom woman pouted. She shook her head and sucked her teeth, taking a long, deep pull from the cigarette in her right hand, which managed to cause her wayward chest to expand even more. All the while, she watched Edward with the intensity of a hawk sizing up its next meal.

The elevator operator flipped the lever and announced, "Eighth floor!"

When he opened the door and another couple stepped inside, the woman moved in so close to Edward that her glittering breasts ended up shoved against his handsomely-uniformed chest.

Edward's breath hitched, and I dropped my gaze to the floor once more to hide the bewildered amazement on my face. Out of my periphery, I could see Edward just about trying to climb into the mirrored elevator wall behind him. He tightened his grip on my hand, almost crushing my bones. It was all I could do to stifle another bout of shocked laughter.

"Darlin', he'll be fightin' a war soon," the white-bearded gentleman called out from the other side of the elevator, clearly unfazed by the sight of his wife's bosom thrust up against another man. "Bein' moved about this country should be the least of his concerns. Ain't that right, Cadet?"

"At the moment, it certainly is the least of my concerns," Edward choked.

"Well, you just enjoy yourself at that dance tonight, Sugar. Have the time of your life before you get sent off to fight that war," the woman suggested, her voice thick and husky.

"Yes, Ma'am," Edward replied courteously.

I chanced a glance at him and found his eyes glued to the wall behind the woman. Yet when I shifted my gaze to the woman, her eyes weren't full of the lust or of the hungry desire I thought I heard in her tone. Instead, there was a soul-searing sadness in her gaze, an unsatisfied longing that seemed more like a far-away memory than a present-day desire.

"I had a beau who fought in the Great War…"

Her eyes abruptly swept down to me, and the emptiness in them sent a shudder rippling through my spine.

"You give this fella here the moon tonight, you hear me? You give him good memories to hold on to while he's off fightin' a war."

I held her gaze steadily. "Yes, Ma'am. I will."

OOOOOOOOOO

Once we stumbled out of the elevator and found ourselves alone in the hallway, Edward and I gave into our nervous fits of laughter.

I wound my arms around his neck, and he shook his head ruefully, sliding his hands around my waist and resting them on my hips.

"That was probably one of the most…frightening moments of my life - and _you_ were no help," he accused, smirking down at me.

"What was I supposed to do," I laughed, "physically pull her away from you?"

"Yes!"

When my peals of laughter finally petered off into chuckles, I tapped my mouth softly to his, tasting his sweet lips.

"I'm sorry then," I murmured. "But it's really not my fault that you seem to have a knack for attracting very…" – I cleared my throat – "well-endowed women."

His eyes flashed to my chest.

"Obviously not _me,_" I droned, rolling my eyes. "I was referring to your former sweetheart."

I was more than a bit startled when his hands quickly dipped to my backside, and he grabbed two handfuls.

"Ow!" I gasped, giving a shocked, little jump.

"That's for talking nonsense," he growled. "_You_ are very well-endowed in all the right places. You just don't see yourself clearly; you never have."

"Edward, I'd hardly call my boobs-"

When he captured my mouth with his, I released a long sigh of pure, unadulterated relief, fisting the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He groaned and swept his tongue between my lips for the first time since we'd reunited a few hours earlier. And as our mouths and tongues reacquainted themselves intimately, his hands molded around my backside, pulling me flush against him. Briefly distracted by what I felt pressed against my stomach, my tongue momentarily faltered.

"Bella…" he breathed, "you haunt me…every part of you…your hair…" – his hand stroked my hair – "…your golden eyes…" – he kissed one eye and then the other – "...your soft lips…" – he nipped my top lip and then bottom – "and…and I dream of _every_ part of your body." He gave my backside one more squeeze before returning his hands to my hips.

"Edward…" I whispered, while he skimmed open-mouthed kisses down my neck and to my rapidly-heaving-

When the door to one of the suites opened, Edward and I hastily broke apart and turned around as we rapidly sprinted down the hallway hand in hand.

OOOOOOOOOO

I was still laughing as I pulled out the key to the door, but when I turned to Edward and found him with his feet planted rigidly on the carpeted floors, all amusement gone from his face, all my mirth receded.

"What is it?"

"Maybe I should just wait out here," he muttered.

"Edward, I do have a chaperone."

"I wouldn't want people to talk."

"They'll be more likely to talk if they see you loitering outside my room," I chuckled. "Come," I prodded softly and held out a hand to him.

It turned out that Mrs. Lewis had just recently woken from her afternoon nap and hadn't had an opportunity to panic at how long I'd been gone. I introduced her to Edward, and taking an 'all's well that ends well' approach to the situation, she disappeared into her room to get ready, and I excused myself to do the same.

OOOOOOOOOO

With Mrs. Lewis leading the way, Edward and I walked into the Oglethorpe Ballroom hand in hand. The room looked even lovelier than it had earlier when I'd helped with the flowers and napkins. There was an actual band now, trumpeting away on stage and warning everyone not to _'sit under the apple tree with anyone but me.'_ Scores of men and women, both in uniform and out, crowded the dance floor while others sat or stood around, yet everyone's excitement injected a heavy dose of adrenaline into the entire room, and my heart…my heart simply pounded with it.

Halfway into the ballroom, something to the right caught Mrs. Lewis' attention.

"Miss Isabella, I'll be in this general vicinity if you need me!" She waved her hands in the direction of the buffet table and disappeared into the throng. I was still attempting to track her when a handful of cadets quickly surrounded Edward and me.

He and the cadets greeted one another with laughter, pats on the shoulder, and claps on the back - much as the troops at the train station had done the previous day. They all wore the same uniform as Edward – officers-in-training uniforms. And though it was probably juvenile of me to do so as Edward made the introductions, I couldn't help silently noting how he was the most handsome of all – the handsomest in the entire ballroom if truth be told.

I don't recall all of his friends' names, except for perhaps one or two.

"Cullen, no wonder you wanted to keep her to yourself!" said the one introduced as Mac. His booming voice easily carried over the enthusiastic band, and he was so tall and broad-shouldered that had it not been for his dimpled smile and teasing, blue eyes, he would've seemed imposing indeed.

"Say, Bella, did'ja know that you've got this fella here absolutely moon-eyed over you? _Ooh, Bella's so beautiful,"_ Mac teased, mimicking who I assumed was supposed to be Edward. "_Bella's eyes are the prettiest golden color you've ever seen. Bella's so smart, she's going to college!"_

They all roared with laughter, and before I could say anything, Edward shoved Mac _hard_, knocking him into the other boys. When Mac straightened himself and charged towards Edward with a low growl, panic welled inside my chest…

Until both Mac and Edward gripped one another's shoulders and started howling with laughter, quickly joined by the rest of their friends.

"You're just rotten green with envy. You all are," Edward scowled, but there was no disguising the pure pride in his voice.

"Yeah...yeah, we are," Mac admitted, clapping Edward's shoulder. "Ain't even gonna try to deny it. She is gorgeous. Hey, Bella, you didn't happen to bring along any girlfriends as pretty as you, did you? Your fella Edward here's the only one of us lucky enough to have a sweetheart, but the rest of us wouldn't mind falling in love – at least for the night!"

They all roared again.

"Well, I…" My eyes trailed to Mrs. Lewis, standing happily at the buffet table as she pushed something sweet-looking into her mouth. "I do have my chaperone…"

Their eyes followed mine, and then snickering, they all did a quick about-face, hastily promising to catch up with us later. Mac saluted me and winked before being on his way.

Edward turned me to face him, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist.

"Don't mind them, Bella. They're a bunch of clowns."

"They seem nice," I said genuinely, "especially Mac."

He crooked an eyebrow.

I smiled. "He made me think of a boy I met at the train station yesterday."

This time, both his brows rose high into his forehead, and I laughed.

"Relax. He was just a young soldier that I happened to see while getting off of the train yesterday, and he reminded me of Jacob because of all his laughing; that's all."

Edward sighed, and an unreadable expression crossed his features.

I moved in closer, taking his hand and lacing our fingers together. "What?"

He studied me for a moment and then shaking his head, smiled softly before pulling me against his chest.

"Never mind. Tonight…tonight's going to be a _good_ night." He said it so quietly I barely heard him, but his pensive mood quickly shifted, and he laughed aloud. "I'm going to get such a ribbing from those guys once we get back. I don't think they believed you could actually be as beautiful as I kept saying you were, and well…now they've seen for themselves, and I won't hear the end of it." Though he rolled his eyes, he looked quite self-satisfied. "You're an absolute dream, tonight. You know that?"

I dropped my eyes to his lapel, pleased yet slightly self-conscious all at once.

He lifted my chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Ready to dance?"

And boy did we dance. We danced for what felt like hours upon hours, barely stopping to catch our breaths. We danced to the USO band's renditions of some of my favorites from Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey's bands, to Bing Crosby's and Kay Kyser's tunes. When the band's trumpets and saxophones began tooting the notes to the Lindy Hop, Edward and I may as well have been Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. We stepped and rock stepped; he swung me around and pushed me away only to pull me back to him. We laughed the entire time because well, perhaps we weren't exactly _Ginger and Fred_, but we couldn't have cared less. After the fourth or fifth song, my hair had come loose from its pins, and there were beads of sweat on Edward's forehead along with a huge grin of appreciation on his face whenever he'd swing me around and my dress would twirl around my thighs. And when the band finally played that song about the bugle boy from Company B, we kicked our legs back and forwards, and Edward picked me up by the waist and easily swung me from his right side to his left side and back again. Mac danced with me as well – well, with _us_ really, holding one of my hands and roaring his big laugh while Edward held on tight to my other hand, refusing to let go of me. And despite their earlier snickers, Edward's friends each took a turn with Mrs. Lewis, and she giggled like a young schoolgirl as they twirled her around that dance floor.

Then, the young man with the blue eyes came out and took up his own slow songs. And while the girls and Mrs. Lewis screamed and fainted dead away, I kept my eyes on Edward and his evergreen eyes because as far as I was concerned, I was the one getting the real show. His hair was damp and sweaty, and he'd loosened his tie while beads of perspiration gave his throat and his face a shimmering glow; his eyes glistening from all the excitement.

"Are you having a good day so far?" he asked.

"I'm having a wonderful day and an amazing night! And you?"

He grinned softly. "I'm having the _best_ day."

OOOOOOOOOO

When we'd danced so much that our legs felt just about ready to fall off, the boys found us a large table, and Edward and Mac volunteered to bring us some food and drinks. A couple of Edward's friends had met some girls, and we all talked and ate and drank, catching our breaths while Mrs. Lewis enjoyed the plate of sweet rolls Edward brought over for her. I whispered in his ear and told him he was her new hero, and he laughed.

As I was sipping on my Cola, Edward leaned into me and planted a soft, moist kiss under my ear, and with the heightened rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, it sent the most pleasant shivers racing throughout my body.

"Do you want to go get some fresh air?"

I pulled back and held his gaze. "We'd probably have to take Mrs. Lewis."

He smirked and turned to Mrs. Lewis. "Ma'am," he said politely, "I would love to escort both you and Bella on a long walk around the hotel, and since I'll have to depart early tomorrow, I'm thinking there's no time like the present. Have you seen the English gardens yet?"

Mrs. Lewis shook her head.

"They're very pretty," Edward noted. "And then there's the _huge_ golf course. We could walk it end to end. I've also heard that the grounds around the river are nice. We could take a brisk walk along-"

"But young man," Mrs. Lewis squealed in alarm, "we've only just sat to enjoy our sweets! Besides, we did an awful lot of dancing out there!"

"But as I said," Edward continued, "there may not be time tomorrow for such a walk as I'm envisioning."

Mrs. Lewis studied Edward, who held her gaze steadily. Finally, she let out a long sigh.

"Perhaps…perhaps you can take Miss Isabella on your walk, and I can just wait here, holding the table?"

Edward stood then, and with a rogue grin, placed his cap on top of his head. "Well, if you don't mind holding the table for us, I'll have Miss Isabella back in two shakes of a lamb's tail." He held out his hand to me, and I eagerly took it before she could change her mind.

OOOOOOOOOO

We walked around the riverfront and kissed in the dark, enjoying the tepid breeze that blew off of the water and cooled down our heated skin.

"_He was the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B! And when he plays boogie-woogie bugle he's as busy as a bzz bee!" _I lifted myself up on my tiptoes and buzzed in Edward's ear, making him laugh.

He side-eyed me, grinning and looking so handsome with his jacket draped over his shoulder and his cap under his arm.

"You sure love that tune."

"It's catchy," I chuckled. My gaze swept over the riverfront, and I marveled aloud at the scaffold-covered ships in the distance, beyond the fences closing everything off to us – or at least to me.

"How did they build all that so quickly?" I wondered, squinting my eyes in the darkness.

"Necessity," Edward shrugged. "It's the mother of invention…or something along those lines. Basically, when you've got to do something, you find a way, regardless of how…terrifying it might be."

"I suppose," I frowned, a bit puzzled by his words.

Over the past few minutes, he'd gotten quietly pensive once more. Yet there was still a nervous energy about him. He kept swallowing and clearing his throat. His chest heaved as if was still full of adrenaline from the dance. His jaw was squared tight and his gaze remained front and center, seemingly deep in thought.

I told myself that perhaps it was simply the effects of the truth we'd both been avoiding since we'd reunited early that afternoon: the truth that we only had a handful of hours left with each other. The night had to end, and though we'd agreed to meet up again in the morning before he had to catch his train back to Moody Airfield, it still wasn't enough time - not by a long shot.

Sighing unevenly, I looked up at the night sky and tried to suppress the dark thoughts threatening to take hold. It'd been such a wonderful day, such a beautiful evening. I didn't want to ruin it this way.

"Bella?"

"Yes?" I looked away from the stars and smiled softly at him.

"Did you have a nice time earlier today when we walked around Savannah and the gardens?" His voice quivered.

"Of course I did," I murmured.

When I stopped and turned towards him, he placed his cap on my head and draped his jacket around my shoulders. Then, he linked his hands together behind my waist. I could feel his trembling.

"You'd make a very pretty officer," he grinned nervously.

Smiling, I rested my hands on his chest. "Would I? Now why don't you tell me what's really on your mind tonight?"

"Did you have fun at the dance?" he further inquired.

"Yes," I furrowed my brow, "you know I did. It reminded me…" – I cupped his cheek – "of being back in Forks - of Masen's and of Alice's weddings where none of us had a care in the world while we all danced together. I mean granted, I've never been to a dance with so many men in uniform," I teased.

He ignored my attempt at levity and covered my hand with his own, kissing my palm while his eyes suddenly bored into mine. "Would you say…" he asked shakily, "would you say that it was a _good_ day?"

Holding his gaze, I blinked a few times, mesmerized by the intensity in his evergreen eyes, by the way they refused to loosen their hold on me.

"It was…a very good day," I whispered, my voice now shaking just as much as his because something suddenly tickled at the periphery of my memory; words spoken a few months earlier, a promise made during a moment that held little promise.

"_It'll be a good day when I ask…"_

In that moment, everything around me abruptly sharpened into a focus so clear that to this day, I can recall it all perfectly: I can tell you the exact colors that were swimming in Edward's eyes, all those wonderful shades of green and brown and blue that swirled in his eager gaze. I can see the black street lanterns behind us as they lent us their glowing light and played with the soft, copper highlights in Edward's short hair. If I inhale, I can smell the slightly musty odor from the melding of river water and shipyard supplies…and I can see…

I see my beautiful, young cadet dropping to one knee, his back straight and proud.

I can feel the sharp inhalation of breath that escaped my lungs half a second before they were closed off.

I see him reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, black velvet box that he held reverently in front of him.

I see him looking up at me and opening the box with a hopeful, crooked grin gracing his beautiful face.

I hear him clearing his throat one last time.

"I…I know it's not much, and I know your mother will probably hate it and say you deserve better, and she'll be right about that. But this here ring has got my very heart and soul wrapped around it, Bella, and it's yours, heart and soul and body and all, if you'll have me..."

Now, if I were to say that I remember exactly what the ring looked like as he held it while down on one knee, if I say I remember the exact way in which the light hit it or how it glittered brilliantly between us, I'd be embellishing the story.

Because my eyes never left his.

And I truly did mean to answer right away, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.

He stood up quickly, the grin gone, his eyes wide and wary, Adam's apple bobbing up and down while the hand holding the ring box fell to his side.

"Alright, maybe I did this wrong. Bella, Sweetheart, I feel like I've loved you my entire life," he said urgently, sliding his free hand around my neck. "And I'm not stupid," his voice broke, "I know I hurt you when I enlisted, and this damn war…I know it's probably the worst time…but no matter what, no matter where my thoughts lead me, they always come back to you. No matter where this war takes us, I will always love you, Isabella Marie. And maybe I'm selfish…no, I know I'm selfish, asking this of you when there's so much we don't know, when you've got so much ahead of you, so many new and exciting opportunities…"

My bottom lip quivered, and again I tried to make a sound, any sort of sound, but I simply couldn't.

"I tried waiting, Bella. I swear I tried," he continued. "But I can't wait anymore, and I can't _not _ask you to be my wife. I couldn't let you go when we were younger, and everyone in the damn world kept saying you were meant for Peter, and I'll never be able to let you go, no matter what this world puts before us. Please, Bella," he pleaded. "_Please_. I realize that-"

I jumped into his arms and wrapped my arms and legs around him, crashing my mouth to his. My tears fell between us, seeping between our lips, but I had a huge grin on my face, and I remember thinking that if I couldn't verbalize what I wanted to say, if I was still too dumbfounded to speak the simple, short, three-lettered word he was waiting for, then I'd at least show it to him.

So I held his face in my hands and kissed him over and over: his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his cheeks and then I retraced the route again and again.

Edward chuckled hesitantly, holding me tightly against him. "I really hope this means yes?"

"Yes!" I finally managed to cry. "Yes, Edward! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

His hearty laughter was the most melodic sound I'd ever heard. It filled the moist air around us like a sudden breeze in the midst of a muggy, humid night. And he kissed me the way I kissed him: wildly and passionately, everywhere all at once, cradling my face in his hands while I clung to him and repeated that three-letter-word over and over.

When he finally set me down, we grinned at one another like two miners who'd just struck gold, unable to look away from the treasure we'd somehow found amid a mountain of rubble.

"May I see it?" I asked.

"What?' he smiled.

"The ring!" I laughed.

"Oh! Oh yeah." He snorted to himself and slowly lifted his hand between us, displaying the open ring box.

"_Ohhh_," I breathed.

It was a white band, delicate and dainty, with a vine-like pattern swirling all around it. I reached for the ring, but Edward beat me to it and pulled it out of the box.

"I know it's thin and plain, but as soon as I can, I'll have a diamond-"

"Don't you dare call my ring thin and plain," I retorted defensively. "It's exquisite and tasteful. And I don't want a diamond on it. I don't want any changes to it – ever. "This…" I gazed lovingly at my ring, "this is perfect."

Edward grinned. "I had something engraved…" We both drew our heads close to the ring, squinting in the darkness to read the inside of the band. "It's kind of hard to read now," he mumbled, sounding more than a bit self-conscious, "but it says…" – his gaze shifted to me – "It says _'My true and loyal heart for yours. Always._'"

"_Ohhh_." I could've quite literally melted into a puddle right there under the sticky, Savannah night sky. "That's _beautiful_."

Half his mouth quirked up in an unsure smile. "May I?" he asked, holding up the ring.

"Please." I held out my left hand and shivered as the coolness of the metal slipped around my finger.

Edward swallowed, gazing at my hand. "A perfect fit."

I lifted my hand between us and admired how it already looked more…mature, more womanly with the ring on. It was indeed a perfect fit, nestled snugly between my pinky and middle finger. A fleeting thought ran through my mind, about the ring being Edward's arms, holding me possessively, proclaiming to the world that I was his.

"Both your father and stepfather know," Edward murmured.

Startled, I forced my gaze away from my ring and looked up at Edward.

"I'd planned to ask you at Christmas, but then with everything that happened…"

"Go on," I prompted.

"I spoke to Charlie last December while we were in Chicago. And Philip…he's known for a while. He'd given me his blessing before Christmas, but then afterwards…after I enlisted…" He drew in a deep breath. "When I wrote and asked him to allow you to come to Savannah, I told him I planned to ask you while you were here. That was followed by a few letters back and forth."

"That explains his reluctance to allow me to come. He's never been so strict with me," I mused thoughtfully.

Then I drew in a deep breath and wrapped my right hand around my left hand, fingering my ring protectively.

"Edward, regardless of what he said-"

"He did eventually agree, Bella. He added a couple of his stipulations," he snorted, "but he agreed."

"What sort of stipulations?" I frowned warily.

He slid his hands around my neck, and I held on to his waist. "Stipulations that I would've agreed to anyway: I continue my education after I return, and…we won't marry until then."

"Edward, I'll be eighteen in a few months."

"Bella, I'll be gone before you turn eighteen."

As happy as I'd been two seconds ago, the weight of those words was crushing. They fell over me like a dead weight, a hard and fast reminder that no matter what, regardless of exciting USO dances and stolen kisses and touches, regardless of the most beautiful, perfect ring I now wore on my left hand…there was a war raging just beyond this magnificent night, and Edward would be off to fight in it soon.

"Regardless, we can still-"

"We both gave our word, and Bella, I've already driven a wedge between you and your mother; I don't want to do the same with you and Philip. Despite our differences, he's always been there for you, and he supports you financially."

"I don't care about that!"

"But I do – for now," he whispered intently. "I won't be here to help, Bella. I won't be here to take care of you, and I need to know that someone is watching over you. I need to know that while I'm gone, regardless of where they end up sending me, you'll be here going to college and living your life, and that my love for you hasn't stopped you from fulfilling any of your goals or extinguished any of your opportunities." His nostrils flared with emotion. "Can you understand that?"

My bottom lip trembled, and I dropped my gaze before bringing it back up to him.

"It's not fair," I said in a strangled whisper.

"I know it's not, Sweetheart," he smiled sadly. "And I'm sorry about that."

"When then, Edward?"

"As soon as I return, Bella," he smiled softly. "As soon as I come back, if you still want me."

I lifted myself on my tip toes and pressed my lips softly to his.

"I'll always want you," I promised. "I'll always love you. And I'll be your wife on any day you say."

He picked up my left hand and kissed my ring finger, gazing at it before lacing our hands together. "And on that day, I'll be the luckiest and happiest man in the world. I'll do my duty, Bella, and then I'll come back to you, and we'll marry, and everything will be wonderful."

"Do you promise that?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied vehemently as his finger circled my ring. "_This _is my promise to you, Bella."

Then he wrapped me in his arms and picked me up once more, and safe within the warmth of his embrace, basking in the light of his promises, I allowed myself to believe that everything would, indeed be wonderful.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 42: **_**Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree**__** (1942) by Glenn Miller:**_

_**Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,**__**  
**__**anyone else but me, anyone else but me, NO NO NO!**__**  
**__**Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me**__**  
**__**Till I come marching home.**__**  
**_

*****FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED IN A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY*****

**For our history lesson today, I'd like to pay tribute to the USO: **

**The ****United Service Organizations Inc.****(****USO****) is a nonprofit organization that provides programs, services and live entertainment to United States troops and their families. **

**During**** WW2, ****the USO became the G.I.'s "home away from home," and began a tradition of entertaining the troops that continues today. The organization became particularly famous for its live performances called **_**Camp Shows**_**, through which the entertainment industry helped boost the morale of its servicemen and women. Hollywood ****in general was eager to show its patriotism, and many famous celebrities joined the ranks of USO entertainers. They entertained in military bases at home and overseas, sometimes placing their own lives in danger, by traveling or performing under hazardous conditions.**

**USO Camp Shows began in the U.S. in October 1941. Overseas shows began in November 1941. Average performers were paid $100 a week; top stars (such as…ahem, Frankie in this story) were paid $10 a day because their wealth let them contribute more of their talents.**

**Camp Shows began in Normandy in July 1944, one month after "Operation Overlord" (which we'll be discussing later on in the story). From 1941 to 1947, the USO presented more than 400,000 performances, including but not limited to entertainers such as Bing Crosby, Judy Garland, Bette Davis, Frank Sinatra, Humphrey Bogart, Marlene Dietrich, The Marx Brothers, Jack Benny, James Cagney, Jimmy Stewart, Danny Kaye, The Rockettes, Fred Astaire, The Andrews Sisters, Lucille ball, Glenn Miller, John Wayne, and perhaps most famously, Bob Hope.**

**War correspondent Quentin Reynolds, in an article for Billboard Magazine in 1943, wrote, "Entertainment, all phases of it - radio, pictures and live - should be treated as essential. You don't know what entertainment means to the guys who do the fighting until you've been up there with the men yourself. . . . You can quote me as saying that we should use entertainment as an essential industry so long as it's for the boys in service. Anybody who has been there would insist on it. . . . Hell, you should have seen how happy the G.I.'s were when they heard the ballplayers were coming over…" **

**The USO also did shows in military hospitals, eventually entertaining more than 3 million wounded soldiers and sailors in 192 different hospitals. **

**Unfortunately, 28 performers died in the course of their tours, from plane crashes, illness, or diseases contracted while on tour. In one such instance in 1943, a plane carrying a U.S.O. troupe crashed outside Lisbon, killing singer and actress Tamara Drasin, and severely injuring Broadway singer Jane Froman. Froman returned to Europe on crutches in 1945 to again entertain the troops. In December of 1944, Glenn Miller was traveling to France to entertain troops when his plane disappeared over the English Channel. He was never found.**

**Women were also key entertainers who performed at shows. Stars such as Marlene Dietrich, Judy Garland and Rita Hayworth had traveled over a million miles. Author Joeie Dee pointed out that "for women entertainers, traveling with the USO made it possible to be patriots and adventurers as well as professionals." She adds, however, that the G.I.s in the USO audiences "tended to see these women in a different light - as reminders of and even substitutes for their girls back home, as a reward for fighting the war, as embodiments of what they were fighting for."**

**Perhaps the most famous USO performer was Bob Hope, who flew ****millions of miles to entertain G.I.s during both wartime and peace. His contribution to the USO began in 1941 and ended with Operation Desert Shield in 1991, spending 48 Christmases ****overseas with American service personnel. ****As a result of his non-stop entertainment to the military, he received numerous other honors over the years: a C-17 Air Force plane ****was named **_**The Spirit of Bob Hope**_**; a naval vessel was named the **_**USNS Bob Hope**_**. During his 1993 televised birthday celebration, when he turned 90, General Colin Powell ****saluted Hope "for his tireless USO trouping", which was followed by onstage tributes from all branches of the armed forces. **

**In 2009, Stephen Colbert,****performing his last episode of weeklong taping in Iraq for his The Colbert Report Show, carried a golf club on stage and dedicated it to Bob Hope's service for the USO.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Talk to you guys soon!**


	42. Chapter 41 - Quiet Promises

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. I truly appreciate them all. Unfortunately, I've been so busy lately, but I think I was able to get back to most of you from the last chapter. Most of the time, I've got to pick between replying and updating, which is why you're not hearing from me as often. But please know that all your thoughts are read with the utmost gratitude, and enjoyed. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 41 – Quiet Promises**

##########

"So the copper-haired dude worked up the nerve to propose after all! About time!" Olivia laughs, then she throws a fist into the air.

"Yes," I chuckle in return, "he worked up the nerve, though…someone else actually shared that same sentiment with you…"

##########

"So he worked up the nerve after all, did he?" Mac grinned. "Thank God because he was driving us batty with all his stammering and shaking every time he practiced his lines!"

I laughed.

Young and excited and newly engaged, when Edward and I had finally returned to the ballroom, the band was packing up, the throng of people had trickled down to merely a couple of dozen or so, and the singer with the blue eyes was long gone.

But we'd found Mac and a couple of Edward's friends waiting for us at our table. Apparently, Mac had assured Mrs. Lewis that he'd send me straight back to our room as soon as I reappeared, convincing her to make her own way back to the room - with some rolls wrapped in a napkin for good measure.

It was as we said quick goodbyes to these boys that I'd known for such a short time that Mac picked up my left hand and spotted my ring.

"Congratulations," he said, much more soberly. "Really."

"Thank you," I replied. Then I got on the very end of my tiptoes and strained my neck to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. I felt a peculiar…connection to this young man - nothing romantic, of course. Rather, he felt almost like an old friend instead of a boy I'd only met a few hours ago.

When I pulled away, Mac was wearing a sheepish grin, his cheeks tinged a dark shade of pink.

"You take care of yourself, Mac," I said, knowing full well that we'd most likely never meet again.

"You take care of yourself too, Bella. And don't worry, I promise I'll keep an eye on that fella of yours – make sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble," he chuckled.

I cupped his cheek and smiled. "Thank you."

OOOOOOOOO

"Just come inside quickly, so we can share the news with Mrs. Lewis," I urged Edward. "Then you can be on your way to the boarding house with Mac and the rest, and we'll meet up again in the morning before you leave."

"It's pretty late, Bella. Are you sure it's okay?" Edward asked, following me in while nervously playing with his cap.

"Of course it is! We're engaged! Besides, poor Mrs. Lewis is most likely waiting up for me, anxious and worried."

Yet when we looked around the sitting area, Mrs. Lewis was nowhere to be seen. I called her name. Then we searched the suite: the guest bathroom, the balcony, and finally, I knocked on her bedroom door. Mind you, I didn't actually think that she'd be in there, not when she'd been unclear of my whereabouts when she'd come up. But when there was no answer, I carefully turned the knob.

And there she was, sprawled under the covers with her hair in rollers and her mouth wide open - snoring.

Edward stood behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. "You know," he whispered, "though I could objectively see your stepfather's point in sending you with a chaperone, I'll admit I wasn't too happy about it. But I've got to say, it hasn't been as bad as I feared."

I tilted up my head to him. He met my eyes and chuckled quietly before soundly closing Mrs. Lewis' door.

"Come on," he said with a jerk of his head.

We made our way to the large, red upholstered, Queen Anne sofa, where Edward sat first and guided me over his lap sideways. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I slid my arms around his neck, and for what felt like a long while and yet not long enough, we simply sat there gazing at one another, drinking each other in, memorizing each other because in a few hours…in a few short hours, we wouldn't be able to.

##########

"And then what happened?" Skye eagerly questions.

"Then…" I throw up my hands and then clap them over my lap. "Then he left, and the sun came out the next morning, and we spent a few more hours together before he got on his train, and I got on mine."

A song suddenly bursts into life and startles me. It's one of those modern tunes with way too many instruments I can't even guess at.

Isabella's breath hitches. "It's Matt! Girls, it's your dad! Hurry, go find Ethan so you can all speak to him! Nana, hold on okay?" I turn and meet her pleading gaze. "Just give us five minutes, Nana."

"Of course, Sweetheart. You give that soldier husband of yours every second you can. As a matter of fact," I make to stand from the swing, "maybe I should go check on your grandfather."

Leah quickly gets to her feet. "Mama, I'll check on him. I've got to take care of a couple of things before everyone begins arriving anyway. You just wait here, okay?"

"Well," I hesitate because…I'm not really sure why I hesitate. "Alright."

And as the girls rush off to find their young brother, and as Leah rushes off to check on her father, I swing myself on the swing, smiling at all the excitement around me.

And in this brief, solitary interlude, my mind wanders back to that evening…

##########

_…to when soft kisses on that sofa led to deeper kisses…when Edward's mouth skimmed down to my collarbone, and I arched my neck up to allow him access to any place he wanted. And as he brushed his warm lips gently against my skin from shoulder to shoulder, I reached out and took his hand, situating it at the fringe where my dress ended and my skin began. _

_His hand froze, yet emboldened by the ring on my finger, by my new status as his fiancée and not merely his 'Sweetheart,' I kept right on kissing him, carefully guiding his fingers under the hem-_

_He jerked away his hand and pulled back to look at me, breathing raggedly, his soft lips pink and swollen, and of course I knew what I was doing to him. I could feel his excitement, and despite how good and benevolent he believed me to be, I wasn't beyond using it to my advantage._

_"Bella…"_

_"Edward, we're engaged." _

_He shook his head. "I gave my word."_

_"Well…what if you hadn't given your word?"_

_"But I did."_

_"But what if you hadn't?" I persisted._

_"But I did," he repeated, crooking a brow. "And so did you." _

_I dropped my head and glared down at my lap. "Yes. Yes, I did."_

_Edward lifted my chin and brought my eyes back to his. "Sweetheart, whether we're engaged or not, whether we gave our word or not, I know you don't want us to make love for the first time with your chaperone snoring a few feet away." _

_Despite my bitter disappointment, I couldn't help breaking into quiet chuckles. _

_"No. No you're right," I snorted. "I wouldn't want that." _

_He smiled and kissed me softly, yet I wasn't ready to give up – not completely. So when I pulled away and picked up his hand once again, he raised his brows._

_"Bella…" he warned, most likely believing I was going to place his hand on my leg again. When I held it against my breast instead, his breath hitched. _

_Eyes widening, he held my gaze, yet this time, he didn't pull away. Instead, it seemed almost of their own volition that his fingers molded themselves around the small mound. He swallowed thickly, and I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down._

_"Bella…" he whispered, sounding almost pained now, "God, they're so soft." He sucked in a breath of air through clenched teeth. "They're so soft, but we gave our words…"_

_"We gave our words that we wouldn't do things that make babies," I clarified quickly, "but neither one of us agreed to no kissing or…touching. At least, I didn't. Did you?"_

_He shook his head slowly, and despite his verbal hesitance, his hand remained curved around my breast. I, in turn, held his gaze unwaveringly, fascinated by the darkening of his irises, refusing to blink or back down or to move one single, solitary muscle out of fear that his warm, firm grip would falter._

_It didn't._

_Instead, Edward reached up and cradled my other breast, crashing his mouth to mine._

_Despite all my instigation, I was caught by surprise when he sighed into my mouth and tightened his grip. I completely melted into him while quiet whimpers and moans rose in the air around us. His hands fondled and stroked eagerly, yet when he pulled away once more, I was sure he meant to put a stop to it all. _

_"Not here, Bella," he panted. "Mrs. Lewis might come out of her room-"_

_I nodded and wordlessly took his hand, leading him down the hall to my bedroom. The entire time, my heart raced in my tingling chest. After I closed and locked the door behind us and turned around, Edward pushed me against the door and, supporting my head with one hand, swept his tongue back inside my mouth and returned his other hand to my breast. _

_"Do you remember what I told you in Forks last summer?" he whispered as he let me up for air, "about you having to guide me, to show me where you wanted to be touched?"_

_I believe I managed an erratic nod. _

_"You'll have to be in charge here, Bella. You'll have to show me exactly what you want; otherwise, I…" he screwed his eyes shut tightly and when he reopened them, a scorching fire burned in them. For one, quick instant, I wondered if it was wise for me to play with that fire. "Otherwise, I may not be able to stop."_

_I nodded once more, knowing that no matter what he said, no matter the fact that I would've given him anything that night, he would stop himself. He may not have trusted his self-control, but I did._

_He smiled gently all of a sudden. "Come." Taking my hand, he sat at the foot of the bed, parting his legs to make room for me to stand between them. I slid my arms around his neck. _

_"Have I told you how much I like this dress?" he asked casually, his gaze sweeping over me from crown to toes. _

_"Yes," I grinned, amused by the shift in focus, by the innocuousness of his statement when we were locked together in my bedroom, "a few times. Mother personally designed it. I'll let her know you approved."_

_"Let's not talk about your mother right now," he smirked._

_"Very well," I chuckled quietly. "What would you like to do then?"_

_He quirked a brow, and I pressed my lips together to hold back another misplaced chuckle. Then, with a deep breath, I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his._

_At first, our kisses were chaste: small, tender taps, tongues barely touching. When his tongue finally dared slip between my lips, I fisted his short hair, and Edward made a low sound deep in his throat. I straddled one leg over his lap and then the other. As he pulled me flush against him, I locked my hands together behind his neck, fully aware of the long, thick mass pressed up against the very lower part of my stomach. It was almost instinctive the way I squirmed against it, and the more I squirmed, the harder it seemed to grow. And the more it grew, the more I needed to move against it, the more the ache between my legs grew, like a coiling, tingling sensation that multiplied as our kisses became more heated and as Edward's hands explored._

_He gasped and pulled back, and I followed his gaze down to my legs where my dress had ridden up and now exposed my thighs all the way up to the hems of my nylons._

_"If I rip this pair, Mother will have a fit."_

_His darkened eyes met mine. "For the love of all that's holy, please stop talking about your mother." _

_Despite what we were doing, I chuckled yet again, a combination of nerves, excitement and anticipation all rolling around within me. His fingers lightly grazed my right thigh back and forth, brushing the hem of my nylon and making me shiver._

_"I suppose I should remove them then. May I?" he finally asked._

_"Please. You'll be doing me a favor - saving my nylons," I smiled wryly._

_He chuckled under his breath - a quivery, breathy chuckle. "We certainly wouldn't want anything to happen to the nylons." _

_His fingers grazed my inner thigh, and with his eyes on mine, he slowly peeled off the nylon, goose bumps rising on my flesh wherever he touched. I straightened out my leg, pointing my toes so that he could pull it off all the way._

_"Where do I put this precious item?" he teased, holding up the nylon between us._

_"Just throw it anywhere," I smiled._

_The nylon floated to the floor, and then he repeated the process. Once the second nylon was off, Edward shook his head from side to side, sucking his teeth in mock disapproval._

_"If your mother could see the state of those nylons."_

_I grabbed his face between my hands. "Now who needs to stop talking about my mother?"_

_This time it was I who parted his lips, and when Edward wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me close once more, I settled myself directly over the stiffness between his legs._

_Sucking in a sharp breath, I startled at the sensation. Our eyes met only momentarily before Edward dropped his head to my shoulder and emitted a low, feral groan. With my dress high over my thighs, there was one less layer between us, and every atom in my being was suddenly on fire, body shaking when he began moving under me, pressing himself in tighter, rubbing his hardness against my most sensitive parts. _

_"Ohhh." _

_I threw back my head, bewildered by the physical uproar, the warmth spreading through me and concentrating itself in one, wildly throbbing center. _

_And Edward's hands and mouth were everywhere all at once: open-mouthed kisses against my burning skin, palms splayed out against my backside before one trailed over my ribs and began fondling my breast. _

_"Edward…" Unfocused, my mouth fell open, completely disoriented by his hips and hands and lips all on me. His mouth hovered over mine and swallowed my breaths as we rocked together in a rhythm so perfect that I was sure we must've been born to do this…exact…thing. _

_At least, that's what I would've been thinking had I been able to think at all. _

_The hand at my breast shifted slightly and began undoing the top buttons to my dress while tender kisses peppered my face and neck. Two, three, four buttons undone, and then his hand was inside my dress, quickly reaching behind me, fumbling with the clasp to my black brassiere. All the while, his hips kept rocking under me, tightening that coil wound between my legs until it was ready to snap._

_When the clasp gave, Edward's hand slipped under the cups, molding around bare skin._

_"Ohhh." _

_Erratic kisses, touches, quiet moans._

_"Kiss them," I breathed._

_"Are you sure?" _

_"Yes," I mouthed._

_His mouth left mine, and suddenly, the very tip of my breast was consumed in the most overwhelming heat imaginable._

_He sucked on one and then the other, tongue slipping into the slight valley in between before climbing up the tender peak. When I looked down and saw his pink tongue circle around and around, a blinding, tingling heat emanated from the sensitive tip his mouth was wrapped around and shot straight between my thighs, forcing them to clench together as that coil finally snapped, and the most beautiful, powerful, maddening and overpowering band of heat exploded. I must've made some strange sound because Edward suddenly stopped and looked up at me through hooded yet slightly confused eyes._

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Don't stop!" I cried, holding on to his neck. "Please, don't stop," I barely breathed, rocking harder and faster over him._

_"I won't stop," he promised raggedly, pushing deeper against me while he held on tight to my hips and helped me move._

_"Oh, please don't stop!"_

_"I won't stop. I promise," he breathed._

_"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," I mouthed, closing my eyes against a pleasure so intense I couldn't even breathe. Yet it kept coming in waves, washing over me, drowning me, crashing into me over and over._

_I opened my eyes and gasped sharply. _

_"I won't stop. I won't…Bella…" And with one final lift of his hips, Edward screwed his face into a look of such potent intensity that it looked quite painful. He grunted and buried his face into the crook of my neck. _

_And in that moment, the world as I knew it ended, and finally began._

_OOOOOOOOO_

_Strangely enough, considering I'd started it all, I felt an inexplicable shyness afterwards, stupidly afraid of what Edward would think of me. Tenderly, he brushed his lips over my eyes, across my cheeks, and on my forehead, all the while helping me readjust my clothing and button up my dress. _

_And all the while, I simply couldn't meet his gaze._

_He lifted my chin with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry."_

_"What? No," I whispered, cradling his face. "No, please don't be."_

_"But you're upset," he breathed, eyes dark and pained._

_"I'm upset because…well…I think I hurt you?"_

_"What?" he frowned._

_"I mean…you looked…and sounded, as if you were in pain."_

_He stared at me blankly for a couple of seconds before turning a deep shade of red. Then he once more buried his face in the crook of my neck. This time though, I could hear and feel his muffled chuckles._

_"What?" I smiled, a bit relieved by his apparent amusement._

_He met my eyes again. "Sweetheart," he grinned. "Believe me, that wasn't pain."_

_"Are you sure?" I asked, biting my lip._

_He tapped his lips to mine. "I'm sure," he chuckled, grinning impishly. "In fact, I've never been so…the opposite of in pain in my life."_

_"Me neither," I admitted sheepishly._

_"Really?" _

_"Well, yes," I conceded, only a tinge of embarrassment warming me because he was now looking at me with so much open curiosity. I figured it wouldn't hurt to describe it a bit for him. "It was like…a blindingly intense warmth spreading all inside me, and it just got hotter and hotter until it…exploded, and I felt like I was floating on air."_

_"Wow," he murmured. "See for me it's like…like this almost unbearable pressure that just keeps on building and building until it…explodes, and I feel like I have no bones."_

_I frowned. "You've felt that before?"_

_He nodded - somewhat hesitantly – which immediately planted all sorts of ideas into my naïve head. My horrifying conclusion must've shown on my face because he suddenly looked horrified himself._

_"Wait, no, no!" he blurted quickly yet quietly. "Not with anyone else! By myself!"_

_"By yourself? You can feel that by yourself?" I wondered._

_Closing his eyes for two seconds, he gave me another nod. "But it's nowhere near as…gratifying as feeling it with you."_

_I held his gaze…and broke out into quiet fits of laughter, wrapping my arms around his neck again. Edward pressed his mouth to mine, and we stifled our mutual chuckles against one another's lips. _

_He cradled my face in his hands. "Truly, that was…amazing. I love you, Bella, and next time…"_

_"When we haven't given our words?" I grinned impishly now._

_"When we haven't given our words," he echoed with a smirk, "next time…"_

_He didn't need to finish his sentence. I saw it in his eyes. With a love like the one we shared, thoughts didn't always need to be expressed out loud, just as the things we did say and do with one another couldn't be bound or unbound by promises or conventions. _

_"But for now," he murmured, "I need to use your bathroom."_

OOOOOOOOOO

"Will I see you again before you leave?" I finally dared ask.

It was the next day, and we were standing in front of the train that would, once again, take Edward far away from me. All around us, young men in uniform hastily boarded and de-boarded trains, some with loved ones to greet them or send them off and some without. The engine's whistle had already blown a couple of times, signaling that our time together was officially over in case we didn't already know it.

"I don't know, Sweetheart," Edward replied, cupping my cheek. "I've got about three months of training left, and I'll be moved a couple more times at least."

"Okay, well, I don't have to be in school until September, so I can-"

"Bella, no." He shook his head and held my gaze steadily. "You're not going to put everything on hold for me."

"But we're _engaged _now," I pleaded.

"I know we are," he agreed, yet his ensuing smile was more melancholic than celebratory, "but you've got a life to lead as well. I won't stop it, Bella." Then he pulled me into strong, warm arms, and I held onto him so tightly, afraid to let go this time because…because I just didn't know. So I fought back the tears stinging my eyes and swallowed back all my fears, and I smiled when he gripped my face between his hands.

"Listen to me," he said fervently, "that ring is my guarantee, my _promise _to you that one day soon, we'll be together forever."

I hadn't realized that I'd lost the fight with myself until Edward reached out and smoothed his thumb under my eye, wiping away a rogue tear. "Don't forget that it's my promise to you."

"I won't forget," I promised, smiling through the blur clouding my vision. "I love you, Edward Cullen – and I give you my true and loyal heart for yours. Don't forget."

He smiled. "I love you, Isabella Dwyer – and no, I won't forget."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 41: My Devotion (1942) by Vaughn Monroe &amp; his Orchestra:**

_**My devotion  
****Is endless and deep as the ocean  
****And like a star shining from afar  
****Remains forever the same**_

_**My devotion  
****Is not just a sudden emotion  
****It will be constantly burning  
****And your love will kindle the flame**_

**See you soon!****  
**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on m profile page.**


	43. Chapter 42 - Back to Reality

**A/N: I managed two updates in one week! I wasn't sure if I'd be able to pull it off, but here you go. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tend to fiddle with things right to the very end, so all mistakes are mine!)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 42 – Back to Reality**

##########

"Did you see him again before he left for war?"

After blinking my tired eyes a few times, I realize that at some point, I've recovered most of my audience. Olivia and Skye have reclaimed their positions on the grass in front of me while Isabella has resumed her gentle swaying of the swing.

"How is Matt?" I inquire. I've always liked her husband: a brave, honest and caring young man.

"He's doing very well, Nana," Isabella says, sounding much calmer than she did a couple of hours ago, when I first came out here and found her crying. "He sends you his love and best wishes for a happy birthday."

"Birthday?" I frown. "What birthday?"

Isabella circles the swing and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in hers. "Nana," she murmurs, gently holding my gaze, "today is your ninetieth birthday."

I search my memory, trying to fully bring myself back to the present, but there's a blurry haze right smack in the middle of it, and it's…it's…

…Instead, I see Edward, tall and so…brave in his heavy, flight suit and helmet. He's walking away from me, and I watch the sun's bright rays envelop him and the aircraft to which he's headed. Before he reaches it, he turns once and grins wistfully at me, waving, and I-

"Nana-"

"Nana Bella, did you see him again before he left for war?" Olivia asks once more.

"I…yes, as a matter of fact," I sigh, "yes, I did see him once more before he left, but...a couple of things happened before then."

##########

Upon our return from Georgia and Florida, Papa Phil met Mrs. Lewis and me at Grand Central Station.

"How was your trip?" he inquired, looking over at me with an arched brow. We were seated in the back of the Rolls Royce as Demetri, our driver, navigated us around afternoon midtown traffic and back to our Upper West Side townhouse.

I turned my gaze to the window to try to hide the grin of utter happiness lifting up the corners of my mouth, but the joy in my voice was undisguisable.

"It was very nice, thank you."

"Was it now?" he asked. "I trust Mrs. Lewis was a dependable chaperone, though by no means as steadfast as Mrs. Cope."

"She was very…trustworthy," I lied for both our sakes – unless by trustworthy one meant she could be trusted to fall asleep at just the right moments, in which case, I was being perfectly honest.

Papa was silent for a few moments, and then in a resigned tone said, "Alright, then; let's see it."

I swiveled around to face him, chuckling lightly as I held out my left hand.

His eyes studied my appendage, lips pursed thoughtfully, and I knew to someone of his means and tastes, the band would probably appear unexceptional and modest. I braced myself for his criticism even as I mentally prepared to defend my precious ring.

"In its own way, it does you justice."

I met his gaze.

"No unnecessary adornments, just quietly charming…and graceful."

"It is, isn't it?" I smiled gratefully while circling the band with my finger. I looked up at Papa Phil once more.

"Thank you, Papa."

"Don't thank _me_," he uttered dryly. "This is not how I would've wanted things to proceed, as you're well aware. In a few months, he'll be far off, when he could've been working for our national interests here at home and continuing his education – in which case I would've given my permission for a marriage instead of a prolonged engagement." His gaze fell forward to the partition dividing the front of the car from the back and affording our conversation privacy from those he employed. "But this is how he chose to do things."

"This is how his _honor _demanded he do things, Papa," I defended. "And if _I _understand it, when I'm the one who'll have to wait for his return, then no one else need question it."

He looked at me once more and sighed, his dark mustache twitching from side to side. "I suppose that's true enough."

Papa Phil informed me that Mother had indeed been apprised of my status as newly engaged, though I dared not even ask how she'd taken the news, and he offered no comment in that area. Ever since the previous summer, when she'd had that outburst and Papa Phil had decreed that she'd no longer have a decision-making say in my relationship with Edward, the subject of my beau was rarely discussed between us.

I held out my hand in front of me and smiled wistfully at my ring. Despite the strain in our relationship over the past couple of years, I longed to be able to share this moment, this happiness with my mother.

Papa Phil cleared his throat. "Rosalie Cullen will be arriving in a couple of days."

My eyes flashed back up to him. "It's confirmed then?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I spoke to Carlisle a couple of days ago, when she first left Washington. Masen is already at Camp Kilmer in New Jersey. There's no way of knowing beforehand when his unit will be shipped out. The orders are given on a moment's notice, and not even I can obtain advanced information on their departure." He frowned darkly.

"Yes, Edward did tell me that's how it's usually done. I truly hope she doesn't miss him," I murmured. "It would break her heart."

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat once more, "For their sake, I hope so as well. Now, I've instructed Demetri to be ready to take you and young Mrs. Cullen to wherever her husband is shipped out from immediately upon your request. And Alec is ready as back-up in case your mother has use for Demetri."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he inquired rather coolly.

"Won't you have need for one of the drivers?"

He straightened out his tie, his gaze shifting from me to the front partition to the opposite window. He didn't answer right away.

"Isabella, I'll be away on business for the next week or so. As a matter of fact, I'm dropping you off at home, and then I'll be on my way. We can discuss the particulars of your engagement in more detail upon my return."

There was a moment of silence that felt unexplicably awkward.

"This war…" he finally said, "…the troop transports, it's making us money, but it's also keeping me quite busy. We'll go over those particulars as well upon my return."

"Yes, Sir. It's a shame you'll miss Rosalie's visit. I'm sure she would've wanted to thank you personally for your hospitality."

He waved me off with a flick of his wrist and said nothing.

"And I'd like to thank you as well, Papa for allowing me to miss more days of school to stay here with her until Masen calls."

He snorted and met my eyes. "You've done well this year. Besides, your time at Miss Tudor's is almost at an end, and you've already been accepted to university."

When I smiled at him, he returned the gesture rather pensively. "Those Cullen boys…have been well loved."

"Yes, they have been," I agreed.

OOOOOOOOOO

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to learn of Mother's reaction to my engagement. She walked into my room as I was unpacking.

Upon my arrival at the townhouse, I'd been informed that she was in her rooms, but I'd elected not to go see her yet, convincing myself that it would probably be best to wait until suppertime. My hope was that by then, she'd have at least a couple of glasses of wine in her system and would be in a mellower mood, ready to accept that this was always meant to be my path – from the moment I'd fallen into that river and been pulled out by the boy with the copper hair and evergreen eyes. Hopefully, in the past year or so, she'd come to see this as inevitable and would be ready to be truly happy for me as I assumed any mother would be when her daughter was well loved by a good, decent man.

But the glacial look in her eyes and the clipped manner in which she proceeded to lock the door behind her immediately let me know how lofty my hopes had been. Out of defiance, or perhaps merely out of bitter disappointment, I lifted my chin high and silently turned my back to her. Wordlessly, I continued to pull my clothes out of my small suitcase and slip them onto silk-covered hangers while I steeled myself for what I was now resigned to be quite a tirade.

"You should have the help do that for you," she said icily.

"I believe I can manage on my own, thank you."

"Mark my words, you'll ruin your life."

"By hanging up some clothes?" I taunted, knowing full well that's not what she was referring to. "Mother, your flair for dramatics absolutely multiplies as the years pass."

She whipped me around to face her, scowling angrily as she gripped my arms.

In all honesty, Father Time had been mostly kind to Mother. At thirty-six, she had a figure that rivaled my own, and a bust line that I'll readily admit to envying often. Why I'd inherited so much from her physically yet not her generous bosom is something that to this day boggles me. Even our hair, though very different in color, was the same silky, wavy texture, and while I tended to wear mine loose or in the simple, half up/half down style of the times, Mother always made sure that hers was styled into the most fashionable coif.

Yet all her frowning and scowling were beginning to take a toll in the form of thin lines around her eyes and mouth – lines I was childishly tempted to point out at that moment.

"You've carried this little rebellion of yours far enough, Isabella! Don't think for a moment that I'll allow any sort of engagement announcement to be published in any of the papers!"

"The lack of an announcement in some inconsequential society page won't make it any less real, Mother," I said calmly.

"By God," she seethed, tightening her grip all the more while I suppressed the need to wince, "when will you wake up and realize everything you're throwing away to make a point?"

At this, I shook off her grip, absently rubbing the spots where her manicured nails had dug into my skin. "When will _you _realize that I'm not attempting to make a point? I'm not you, Mother," I stressed. "You may have married my father to spite your mother, but my relationship with Edward has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"And what are we supposed to do about that…_thing_," she sneered disgustedly, dropping her eyes to my ring, "at this fall's coming-out ball? You know very well that only single girls are allowed to debut!"

I gaped at her incredulously while covering my ring with my right hand to protect it from her malicious glare.

"The coming-out ball? Mother, how many times do I have to tell you that I won't be debuting at that ball? I will be in college in the fall," I said slowly and clearly. "I will be on the west coast; I won't be here anymore!"

I could feel myself losing control, and so I closed my eyes and took a deep breath because I hated the off-balance way she always made me feel.

"Mother, I have different goals and desires from you," I said in a much more composed tone, "and I truly apologize if that's a disappointment, but it's just how it is. Perhaps it's simply time we both accept that and try to move on from this so that we can have some sort of a relationship."

Her sky-blue eyes narrowed and her mouth formed a tight line – which highlighted those aforementioned creases all the more. She studied me as if she had no idea who was standing before her, how this person who looked and sounded so much like her could be so…different.

At least, that's what I assume she was thinking because it's what I was thinking.

Unable to bear her tense, disapproving gaze, I turned back around and resumed my clothes-folding, all the while trying to calm my heaving chest. The entire time, I could feel the fury rolling off of her in waves.

"What will you do if he doesn't return from the war?"

The blouse I'd been folding fell over the bed as ice raced up my spine, stopping and freezing my heart, my lungs, my entire system. My palms splayed over the mattress as I tried to remain upright, to keep my knees from buckling as I attempted to gasp in some air.

All the while, my mother stood quietly and stoically behind me.

Finally, I managed to suck in a few, shallow breaths, and as I rounded on her, I unconsciously clutched my chest with one hand to stem the pain still gripping my heart.

"How dare you?" I asked shakily when I was finally able to speak again. "How _dare _you even speak such a thing!"

"It's a very real possibility, Isabella," she said, no emotion, no remorse whatsoever on her beautiful face for having spoken my worst fear – my most unimaginable nightmare - aloud. "Whether or not you want to face it, it's a very real possibility. Spare yourself the risk of that pain right now, and let him go. Think of yourself, Isabella," she murmured gently. "What will you do if something happens to him, and you've failed to cultivate the necessary relationships to sustain your lifestyle because you've been so focused on him and his family? If you'd at least stay in touch with Peter," she pleaded, carefully placing her hand over my arm now, "just in case things don't work out-"

"Get out of my room!" I hissed through clenched teeth, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from doing something unthinkable.

"This is _my _house, Isabella," she hissed back. "Even if _he _does take your side on everything, this is still mine. Do you know why he takes your side? Do you think it's because he gives a damn about you or that boy?"

"Get out!"

"He does it for _her_, not for you. It's his sick way of remaining attached to her! Of pretending he has a say in her life!"

"Get out!"

"One day, he'll grow tired of this game," she spat quickly and bitterly. "Or if something happens to that boy, you'll no longer be of any use to him. Then where will the both of us be? I'll always be an outsider, Isabella, but you've been brought up in this world! You still have time to cultivate the correct relationships. Even if you insist on this engagement, you can form a bond with Peter while he's away-"

"GET OUT!"

Quickly and furiously, I backed her to the door, where she reached behind her and unlocked it. "I know you think I'm horrible, but I'm only trying to wake you up, Isabella," she said before stepping out.

As soon as she was out, I re-locked the door behind her, pummeling my fist against it once, and then resting my forehead against the cool, solid wood, I released all the pent up frustration inside me.

OOOOOOOOOO

I resumed my writing to Edward that evening, letting him know that I'd arrived back in New York without incident. I didn't tell him about my argument with Mother. There was no point.

A couple of days later, Rosalie arrived.

Demetri and I picked her up from Grand Central Station in the Rolls, and we hugged and caught up through the entire twenty minute drive back to the townhouse.

I remember that she looked wonderful. A natural beauty inside and out, her pregnancy had given her a wonderful radiance, and I teased her that she was no longer "Rosie" because of her name, but because of her complexion. At almost six months along, her belly was round and protruding, yet the rest of her was as slim and shapely as always, and her shoulder-length blond hair was as shiny and wavy as spun gold.

She didn't bring much luggage, only a satchel and a toiletry case, so I forewent calling for help and carried her luggage myself while she insisted that she could do it on her own.

"Nonsense!" I cried, happy for the first time since I'd parted from Edward at the train station. "Masen would kill me if I let you carry your own luggage right now, and I dare say I'd deserve it!"

"I'm expecting, Bella, not dying!" She rolled her eyes, grinning. Unable to resist, I reached out and rubbed her belly for about the dozenth time since she'd arrived.

"I still can't feel anything!"

"I told you, he's sleeping right now," Rose smiled. "I'll let you know when he wakes."

"How do you know it's a boy?"

"I don't," she shrugged. "I just like imagining that it is because I know that's what Masen wants. We'll see. I'll be happy either way."

After settling Rose into one of the guest rooms, I wandered into the kitchen to prepare some iced tea and snacks, and Mrs. Lewis, who was back in work mode, helped me get everything together. Yet by the time I brought them into the room, I found Rose fast asleep. I watched her for a few seconds, feeling…relieved to have someone real back with me. And then I covered her with a blanket and left her to rest.

Rose awoke a few hours later, looking quite refreshed. I showed her around the house - being careful to avoid Mother's rooms, and she let me put my hand on her belly when the baby kicked, to which I squealed in delight. We had supper by ourselves in the small dining room, at a table for six meant for the immediate family. We dined on cream of cauliflower soup and chicken in a red wine reduction sauce which was delicious, though I'd heard the kitchen staff complaining recently about how difficult it was getting to procure the ingredients for a decent meal.

"This is all so wonderful, Bella. I feel like a princess! Please pass along my sincere thanks to Mr. Dwyer when he returns," Rose said for about the fifth time. "I'm truly so grateful."

"I've already passed along your gratitude," I smiled gently.

She smiled back. "Will your mom be joining us soon? I'd like to thank her as well."

My smiled faltered. "I don't think Mother will be joining us much in the next few days."

Rose gave me a look of mixed sympathy and understanding. Then she set down her spoon and reached out, placing her hand over mine.

"Esme and Carlisle are thrilled about your engagement to Edward. They've asked me to send you all their love."

I forced my lip to stop quivering. "How are they doing?"

"Carlisle is fine, glad that Masen isn't being sent to North Africa after all." She went quiet for a while, staring down at her soup. I turned my hand over so that I could tighten my grip around hers.

"Rose…"

With a deep breath, she looked up and smiled again, but as pretty as her eyes were, there was an undisguised fear behind them now, which made my heart clench painfully.

"Esme is…" she continued, "Esme is Esme. Trying to keep everyone's spirits up. She's planting a new garden, much larger than the one she had before, growing all kinds of vegetables. Sandy tried to get into it the other day."

"Poor Esme," I chuckled. "Sandy must've gotten an earful!"

"That she did," Rose grinned. "But you know, Sandy isn't as quick as she used to be, so she didn't do too much damage."

"My little Sandy," I mused quietly. "I do miss her so."

"As for Alice…"

I pulled in a lungful of air, and Rose sighed. "She'll be leaving for Seattle to begin her training in two weeks."

"So there's no changing her mind."

"No," Rose shook her head. "You know those Cullens, Bella. Once they make up their minds…"

"Yes," I nodded weakly, "I know. And Jasper?"

"He drinks too much lately," she shrugged, "and stays busy with his dogs, Gus and a couple of others that the County is paying him to train to be air raid wardens."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Then my head snapped up. "Canine air raid wardens? Really?"

"Really," she nodded. "I think it's what keeps him sane right now. You should see the things he teaches them to do, Bella. They're amazing."

My mind wandered to when we were all kids, to the stupid things we believed to be problems and hardships and heartache: near drownings and ghost stories and apples falling out of dresses.

"How could she leave him behind?" I mused, glaring at my soup.

Rose didn't answer immediately. When I lifted my head, she was watching me.

"I think…" she said carefully, "I think you're judging her based on the way you and I think, and I don't think that's fair to her. You've had so many opportunities, and I've never wanted them. That makes both of our experiences much different from hers. Therefore, how can we know what she's thinking and feeling, regardless of how much we love her?"

"But Jasper-"

"Yes, Jasper is having a hard time, but do you think things between them would be better if she sacrificed what she wants to do? If it were the other way around, would it be fair of her to ask him to stay behind? You and I of all people know the answer to that."

She said it all so plainly, with no accusation yet without trying to sugarcoat it either.

Masen called after dinner. He'd arrived in New Jersey on the Pennsylvania Railroad a few days earlier and was being quartered at the newly opened Camp Kilmer, a staging area for troops before being shipped out to the European Theater of Operations. Unfortunately, once quartered at Camp Kilmer, troops had to stay put. Oh, they had plenty to entertain them in there: USO bands, baseball fields, even movie theatres. They were allowed to make plenty of phone calls as well, but they weren't allowed to leave unless it was on a train bound for their shipping area.

And since there was no way of knowing when Masen would be shipping out, Rose would be playing a waiting game until we received the phone call from him saying he was on his way, at which time we had to race over to the shipping area and pray to God we'd find him.

After dinner, Rose and I went for a stroll around the neighborhood. I took her to Central Park, and having never been out of Washington, her eyes widened at every sight. She loved all the small bridges and stone fountains, and she marveled at the skyscrapers in the not-too-far distance.

We stopped in front of the lake and gazed out at the reflection of the warm, spring sun setting for the evening.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building, though I suggest we admire them from the ground floor and not attempt to go to the top in your condition," I teased.

I felt her hand on my arm. "I'm scared, Bella," she said when I looked at her. "I'm so frightened."

I knew she wasn't referring to the skyscrapers.

"So am I," I confessed because there was nothing else I could say. We shared a bond, she and I, unlike any bond I shared with anyone else at that point in my life. So I hugged her to me – or as much as I could hug her in her state – and we stood there that way, in the middle of the park, for a long while.

OOOOOOOOOO

As it turned out, we didn't get much time for exploration before that phone call came bright and early the next morning. Masen and the rest of his unit were being shipped out on the next troop transport leaving the Brooklyn waterfront.

I helped a shaking Rosalie into the back seat of the Rolls, and then I instructed Demetri to take us to the Brooklyn waterfront.

"Quickly please, Demetri," I pleaded, and having a younger brother in the service, Demetri didn't have to be asked twice.

The Brooklyn terminal that morning was one of the most confusing sights I'd ever seen. Troops in the thousands packed the waterfront, and Rosalie and I weren't the only ones who'd come to see one off. Worried for Rosalie and her protruding stomach, Demetri and I tried to stay in front of her protectively, but she was anxious and eager, and we lost Demetri at some point while I had to struggle to keep up with her longer legs. We asked one soldier after another until we were finally directed to the general staging area for the 337th Infantry Regiment of the U.S. Army.

"Rose!"

We both whipped our heads around, and just a few feet away, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, stood twenty-one year old Private First Class Masen Sebastian Cullen, Army Medic, standing almost a full head over everyone else.

"Rose!"

"Masen!"

"Rose!"

I'm not sure which one ran faster, but Rose was quickly in Masen's arms while I simply stood there, the tears I'd held in check for so long now falling here among so many thousands of men I didn't know.

They kissed passionately with no regard for their surroundings, and when he finally set her down, I watched him rub her belly, grinning this grin…I'll never forget that grin 'til the day I die. It was the first time he'd seen her belly other than through pictures. No one could help but notice them because she was just so darn beautiful, and he was so handsome…so brave.

And I gave them their time, their privacy, as much as it was in my power to do so. Yet despite the fact that thousands of people surrounded us, as far as Rose and Masen were concerned, they were the only two people on that waterfront on that early May morning of 1942.

He hugged her again and again, holding her so close, murmuring words I couldn't hear, assurances of which I could only guess. When his gaze fell on me a few minutes later, he grinned widely and waved me over.

"Little Sister!"

When I reached him, he wrapped me in one of those bear hugs he'd been giving me since I was a little girl – those brotherly bear hugs that had always kept me safe from rain, from scrapes, from falls in the river…and from a broken heart.

"Little Sister…" he murmured, his endearment for me since almost that first summer. "How was my little brother when you saw him?" he asked when I pulled away.

"He's doing well. He'll be finishing up soon too."

"I always knew you two would end up together. From that first morning when he pulled you out of the river, I knew he was a goner," he chuckled.

I chuckled along with him, trying not to cry again.

"You take care of yourself, you hear?" he said much more soberly, holding my gaze steadily through eyes the same color as his brother's, the same color of their mother's. "You and Rose and Alice…you've always been my girls. You take care of yourselves and watch out for each other 'til I come back, no matter what your differences are. None of that matters anymore."

I nodded, my bottom lip quivering. "We will. Take care of yourself too, Masen. Love you."

He hugged me again. "Love you too, Little Sister. Be there for her and for my kid if something happens to me," he whispered in such a rush that I didn't even have time to agree before he pulled away, his eyes now firmly on his wife. "Now let me say goodbye to my Rose one more time."

I looked up at him, so young and handsome in his uniform, so ready to defend and protect.

And then I nodded and walked away, giving them their last moment of privacy.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 44: **_**The Sunshine of your Smile**_** (1942) by Frank Sinatra:**

_**Shadows may fall across the land and sea  
Sunshine from all the world may hidden be  
But I shall see no clouds across the sun  
Your smile shall light my life till life is done.**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend. In honor of Independence Day, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all the brave men and women who've ever fought to defend all the wonderful freedoms we tend to take for granted. Happy Fourth, everyone. :) **


	44. Chapter 43 - One Dozen Red Roses

A**/N: Thank you so much for your continued thoughts. They truly keep me going with this. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 43 – One Dozen Roses**

Rose and I never did take that tourist trip to the Empire State Building or the Chrysler Building. After Masen's departure, sightseeing wasn't at the forefront of her mind. Instead, for the next couple of evenings, we walked the quieter sections of Central Park, watching the grey and white pigeons waddle in front of us while red cedar conifers rolled in the green grass, and branches of blue spruces bounced in the warm, May breeze. We reminisced about our childhood in Washington and our summers together by the river. We wondered about the baby growing inside her: its sex, its hair color, what he or she would grow up to be. And though I knew what was at the forefront of her mind, we didn't dare wonder aloud.

A couple of days later, Rose and I hugged by the platform at Grand Central. She promised to write as soon as she heard from Masen, and I handed her a letter for Alice. Edward's turn to head for war was coming up soon, and despite his protests, I had no plans whatsoever to leave the east coast until I knew when he'd be leaving and from where.

The weeks passed, my final days in high school came to an unmemorable end, and as Edward's training advanced, he was moved from one air base to another. By the beginning of June, he had to make the decision as to whether to pilot a multi-engine aircraft with a crew or a single-engine fighter. I won't deny that I was both surprised and relieved that he chose the former, though to this day, I still don't know why he made that choice. All his childhood dreams had revolved around flying a fighter - except perhaps he knew I'd feel slightly less terrified if he wasn't alone up there in those menacing skies.

By the second weekend in June, Edward was getting ready to be moved around Georgia for the third time, to Advanced Flight Training, and I was at a lakeside resort in Upstate New York having one of the grandest graduation parties that resort had ever seen.

Mother and Papa Phil had a huge, white tent erected along sweeping lawns illuminated by thousands upon thousands of twinkling, white lights. They hired one of the best big bands on the east coast to entertain the fashionably-dressed guests culled from the crème de la crème of society, and they employed enough tuxedoed wait staff, expensive food and quality drink to make sure those precious guests didn't want for anything.

And as the band played on in the background, Mother and Papa Phil led me around to greet everyone and to introduce me to those of their acquaintance I hadn't yet met. Mother smiled especially brightly and hopefully every time she presented me to any single male in attendance between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five. After meeting my seventh eligible bachelor of the evening, Mother pulled me aside, smiling.

"That is _not_ the dress I picked out for you for this evening!"

I glanced down at the pink and grey taffeta dress I wore, with the fitted bodice and waist and the wide, full skirt.

"The black, silk dress had a stain." A bold-faced lie, but that was the dress I'd worn to the USO dance with Edward, and I'd decided I'd never wear it again unless it was to dance with him. "Besides, what's wrong with this dress?"

"You look about ten years old in that dress! And must you flash that _thing_," she growled inconspicuously, "every single time I introduce you to someone?"

"I simply want to make sure that there are no misunderstandings, since there was that lack of an announcement in the papers."

As I spoke, I pressed my left hand over my collarbone and tapped my ring finger against it, purposely taunting her. She glared at me, yet when her eyes moved behind me, her composed façade seemed to falter.

"Straighten out your shoulders," she ordered quietly. "Peter is coming to greet you."

I closed my eyes and exhaled a long, exasperated breath. "Mother, seriously, won't you just give up-"

"Be quiet, smile and turn around!" she hissed before repasting the beatific smile on her angelic face. "Peter, Darling, how have you been?"

My eyes rolled around their sockets while they greeted one another with hypocritical words and kisses, and gathering my courage, I turned around to greet Peter – who looked as immaculate as always in his pristine, dark suit alongside a pretty, young girl about my age, whose waist he had his arm wrapped around quite possessively.

A wide, languid grin spread across my face, and oh, how I yearned to laugh in Mother's face right then and there.

"Isabella," he said, leaning in for a quick peck on my cheek. "My congratulations on your graduation. I read that you finished at the top of your class, even with all the fundraisers and collection drives I've heard you're working on."

"Yes, well," I smiled sheepishly, "I'm sure we're all doing our part for the war effort."

"Some more than others," he teased with his signature wry grin. "That's truly wonderful, Isabella, though I'm sorry I missed the actual ceremony."

_Sweetheart, how I wish I could attend your graduation ceremony and take you to your prom. You would've been the prettiest girl there, and we would've danced all night like we did in Savannah…_

"Isabella?"

"Oh," I blinked. "It's quite alright. You know how those things go; one is just like the other." I turned my attention to the girl beside him and offered her a welcome smile. "Hello."

"Forgive my rudeness. Mrs. Dwyer, Isabella, may I introduce you both to Miss Judith Laurent, of the Boston Laurents?"

"It's wonderful to meet you." Very unlike myself, I reached out and rested my hands on her shoulders, kissing both her cheeks.

Meanwhile, behind me, Mother offered a bland, "Very nice to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I think I hear someone calling me."

I glared down at the floor to hide my smirk before addressing Miss Laurent once more.

"Miss Laurent-"

"Judith, please."

"Judith, then you must call me Isabella. How long have you and Peter been courting?"

Petite like me, she beamed up at him. "I believe it's been almost two months now."

"Oh, how wonderful!" I gushed, clasping my hands together excitedly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me!"

Peter smirked knowingly. "Isabella, Judith graduated last year from Miss Stanton's School of Massachusetts."

"Oh? And what are you studying now, Judith?"

"Studying?" Judith frowned, her brows meeting in the middle, dark eyes openly confused. She had dark hair as well, long and wavy, much like my own.

"As I said, Isabella, Judith finished her education last year," Peter said, dry amusement in his tone. "You must remember that by continuing yours, you're the exception rather than the rule."

I felt my face flush. "Forgive my presumption."

"Oh, there's nothing to forgive," she smiled sweetly and easily.

"Nonetheless, the past few months have been busy for us all, haven't they? What with this war now."

"I…don't…" She gave me another confused stare and then turned to Peter as if for some sort of a translation. He merely smiled indulgently at her. "Well, _I'm_ not fighting the war," she finally shrugged. "Therefore, it doesn't keep me busy at all - though I do feel sorry for those boys being sent all over the place now. It must be such a nuisance."

"More than our pity, I believe they need our help," I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Oh, but I do help!" she announced eagerly then. "Mother and Father have bought plenty of war bonds."

"There. You see? Her parents buy bonds," Peter said, giving me a mocking smile - though I wasn't sure if it was meant to mock her or me.

I gaped at them both. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Judith. And it was good to see you, Peter."

Peter lifted an impish brow, and then picking up my left hand without actually looking at it, he brought it close to his mouth, his blue eyes on mine the entire time. "Once more, congratulations," he murmured before kissing my hand and walking away, his arm wrapped around Judith.

OOOOOOOOOO

Papa Phil soon approached with Lauren and her fiancé in tow.

"Isabella!" Lauren said, giving me an air kiss on each cheek. "This is my fiancé, First Lieutenant-"

"Shouldn't you first congratulate your sister on her graduation?" Papa Phil interrupted.

"Oh, of course," Lauren sneered. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Lauren.

"As I was saying, this is my fiancé, First Lieutenant Justin Sterlington, with the U.S. Navy. He's also heir to Sterlington Industries in California," she reminded me proudly, as if I hadn't heard enough from Mother about Justin Sterlington and what a great catch he was.

First Lieutenant Sterlington was of medium or so height, of stocky build, and had pale skin whose pallor was probably magnified against his pristine, white officer's uniform. His large, brown eyes also stood out against his skin tone, making them look almost like two spots of dirt in a wide, snowy expanse. I couldn't tell his hair color since his head was covered by his cap.

When I put out my hand to shake his, he pulled me in so hard I almost lost my balance. Then he proceeded to kiss my cheek a bit too soundly.

"Whoa. Alright, well, I suppose it's good to meet you. Where are you currently stationed, Lieutenant?"

"Right now, I'm at Roosevelt Base, in Long Beach, Isabella," he grinned.

"Will you be shipping out to Europe or Asia soon?"

He laughed as if I'd told a joke, and when he removed his cap and held it under his arm, I silently noted that Lieutenant Sterlington's lack of hair was due to more than just the required naval cut.

Oh, and what there was of it was a dull brown.

"No, no, no. With your father's assistance, I'm permanently stationed at the office of the Inspector of Naval Material."

"That's…wonderful."

"Isabella's beau is in training somewhere in the south," Lauren said. "Though it _is_ a shame Daddy couldn't help _him_ remain stateside." She shook her head, but the mocking smile pretty much negated her proclamation of sympathy.

"Edward is actually my _fiancé_ now," I clarified, prouder and prouder of Edward by the second, "and when he completes his training, he'll be a pilot for the U.S. Air Force." As for the rest of her statement, I saw no point in bothering to clear it up.

"Daddy also tells me that _you're_ going to veterinary school?" she chuckled. "Is that true or was he just pulling my leg?"

"It's completely true."

"You always were a…strange, little thing, weren't you? Veterinary school _and_ engaged to Edward Cullen from up there in wilds of Washington. Please tell me at least _that's_ a joke," she laughed.

"Why you would think that a joke is beyond me," I responded as calmly as possible, "especially when, if I recall correctly, _both_ you and Jessica would absolutely drool after him when we were younger. And just in case you're still in doubt, here's my engagement ring." I held up my hand for her perusal while an ungenerous thought crossed my mind regarding the probable complexion of any children between Lauren and Lieutenant Sterlington.

"Interesting ring. Well," she sighed dramatically, "I suppose you had to make due now that Peter seems to have come to his senses and moved on."

"Ah, yes, Peter," I nodded, "another one you used to drool over."

"Why you little Okie from-"

Papa Phil reached over and put an arm around each of our shoulders, chuckling. "Ah, my two girls, as different as night," – he patted my dark head - "and day," he said as he patted Lauren's blond head. "Yet family to the very end."

I looked at Lauren. She scowled peevishly and stuck out her tongue at me.

OOOOOOOOOO

The sun set across the lake, casting a heavenly, golden glow all over the grounds. The band was exquisite, yet I hadn't danced all night, much to Mother's chagrin.

And as I stood a few yards away, leaning against the wooden railing and staring at the way the water's hue changed from green to orange, I thought of Edward and imagined the way things would've been, the way they could've been.

He would've sat front and center at my graduation ceremony and clapped the loudest when I received my diploma. I would've actually attended my prom the way most of my girlfriends did. We would've danced every dance both at the prom and tonight, and I would've laughed aloud as my wide skirt swung from side to side. Eventually, we would've snuck away to stand here by the lake, and he would've had his arms around me and his lips on mine.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel him. My lips parted instinctively as I imagined his warm mouth, the feel of his hands on me, his warm breath against my skin…

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Startled, I gasped and turned around.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Peter smiled, standing a couple of feet away with his hands deep in his pockets.

"You didn't frighten me, just surprised me." I placed my palm against my chest to calm my racing heart. For one moment, for one, hopeful split second when I'd felt someone behind me, I'd allowed myself to believe that…well, the reality of the situation now had me literally struggling for air.

Slowly, Peter stepped forward and rested his weight against the railing, watching me.

Chest still slightly heaving, I took in his casual stance and prepared my exit.

"Excuse-"

"I've wanted to tell you that I was sorry to hear about your friend, Jacob. That must've been hard for you."

My eyes immediately watered, but six months later, it was easier to hold back the tears. "It was difficult, but I was more concerned for his father than for myself. Though my father tells me that his dad seems to be getting better."

"I can't even imagine what that must be like," he murmured. "Forever losing someone you love."

We were silently pensive for a few seconds.

"Well, I should be getting back-"

"Isabella, I understand that congratulations are in order for more than just a successful, high school graduation," he offered quickly, his gaze traveling from my ring back to my eyes.

"Yes, thank you," I smiled.

He turned around and faced the water, bracing his arms against the railing's wooden rim. "So when is the big day?"

"We…we're waiting until he returns from the service."

"Really? I'm surprised."

"Judith seems…nice and sweet," I offered hastily.

His eyes flashed to mine, and he smiled before returning his gaze to the water.

"Yes, she's very nice and sweet. She's also pretty. And very rich. We can't forget rich. My parents are overjoyed."

"Well then, I'm happy for you as well. Now, if you'll excuse-"

"She's not the brightest star in the sky though, is she?" he grinned impishly.

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"But it _is_ true," he chuckled. "Still, she has the dark hair, dark eyes and petite, little stature I seem to find myself drawn to for some unknown reason, even if the actual brains are missing. I guess we can't all have the complete package – unless you happen to be a certain, lucky young man from the northwestern part of the country."

"Good bye, Peter." I turned to walk away.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he laughed. "Seriously, you should probably congratulate me as well."

"You've proposed?" I grinned, taking a couple of curious steps back towards him.

"Not yet," he shrugged, turning to lean against the railing, once again digging his hands in his pockets. "But I probably will within the next couple of months. I'll propose, finish school next year, marry her and then join the Air Force."

"_You're_ joining the Air Force?"

He gave me a loaded look. "Isabella Dwyer, did you really think that because I didn't run to enlist the minute the first shots were fired that I planned to completely skirt my duty?"

"But you'll make sure you remain stateside." I lifted a knowing brow.

"No, I won't," he contradicted. "I may have chosen to finish my education first, but if this war continues, I _will_ be serving my country from wherever I'm needed the most."

"I thought Papa Phil-"

"Isabella, regardless of what others tend to say about me, I do have my own mind. Your stepfather would've kept us _all_ stateside if he'd had his way, but despite what you've always seemed to believe, Edward hasn't cornered the market on bravery or patriotism."

"Once again, goodbye, Peter." I turned my back to him again, ignoring the inane apologies he continued to spout as my heels dug into the softened earth and led me away.

But then something else occurred to me.

"Tell me one thing, Peter," I asked, rounding on him. "What _did_ you say that day when we were children? That first Independence Day we all spent together in Forks? Why did Edward hit you?"

"Now that's not fair," he grinned, taking a couple of slow, tentative steps towards me. "I do come out looking quite cowardly in that story – though I may remind you, I was only thirteen." He wiggled his jaw from side to side, palming it almost subconsciously, as if he could still feel the ghost of Edward's fist.

"What did you say?"

"You mean he still hasn't told you?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, I wonder why."

I rolled my eyes. "Edward isn't prone to gossip. Besides, our time together has always been limited…and precious. We have too many other things to discuss to waste time-"

"To waste time discussing me?" He arched a brow.

"Well…yes," I nodded.

He snorted. "Do you really want me to tell you?"

"Yes, I do."

Then I stood around for about ten seconds, waiting, and at his continued silence, I sucked my teeth and turned around one more time.

"Fine, but just remember that I fully admit that I was a spoiled, arrogant, even obnoxious, young boy," he called out.

With a smirk, I swung around to face him, arms crossed against my chest. "Go ahead, then."

He huffed. "I'd been dragged to the middle of nowhere because Father's _nouveau riche_ friend and his wife had invited us for a week in the wilds of Washington," he said, sounding much like Lauren, "and Father didn't want to turn his money- sorry, I meant his _invitation_," he sneered, "down."

"What a thoughtful sentiment," I said dryly.

"Isabella, this is the world I'd been born into, not just brought up in, like you. Mother reminded me constantly about our old and rich heritage, and she assured me that even though the money was dwindling, with the right connections, we'd remain at the top."

"And Papa Phil was the right connections."

"Exactly," he nodded. "Now while having to consort with the newly rich wouldn't have been her first choice, one had to do what one had to do."

"How forward thinking of her," I scowled.

He laughed. "Perhaps you'll remember how unhappy I was that first week, but it wasn't just because I was looking down on everything – though that was part of it," he admitted with a sly grin. "I was also simply your typical, obnoxious thirteen-year old who'd been taken somewhere he didn't want to be and away from the things he was comfortable with. Then that night, the night of the fireworks, I felt even more out of place when I saw how relaxed you were with all the other kids. You, the only person with whom I'd finally started feeling at ease."

"You felt at ease with me?" I questioned, pointing at myself. "You never did anything but look down on me that first summer."

"Perhaps that's because you were all of five years old and two feet tall."

"I was almost ten, and a bit more than two feet tall," I droned.

"Okay," he snickered. "But once again, please remember that I was a teenager, and a brand new one to boot, which probably made me feel doubly entitled, and…and I could tell that your mother was anxious to encourage some sort of puppy love between us-"

My face flamed.

"-and if I must be honest throughout this story, then I have to admit that at the time, I had no interest in a nine-year-old, no matter how pretty she may have been."

He paused.

"Go on," I prompted, motioning with my hand.

He expelled an uncomfortable sigh. "Alright, so before chasing the butterflies in the dark that night-"

"Fireflies," I corrected. "They were fireflies."

"I thought they were butterflies," he frowned. "Fine, before chasing the _fireflies_, Edward and I had actually started to get along pretty well. We'd even agreed to commit a petty theft together," he grinned, "by sneaking into Philip's office to swipe a couple of cigars while everyone was entertained with the fireworks. Then someone started squealing, and Edward's eyes flashed to where you and the rest of the girls were sitting on the swing set, screaming your heads off over those fireworks, and he just kept…looking and looking, and I..."

He glanced down at his feet, shuffling them a couple of times before looking at me again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm very sure."

"Alright, then," he said quietly, "but just remember that I fully admit I was a stupid, arrogant, spoiled thirteen-year old boy at that point, and I've never claimed I was more." He drew in a long, protracted breath. "I don't know why I said it. Maybe I…maybe I saw it even then, and I wanted to stop it even then," he mused. "So I may have said something like, 'You know that little girl, Isabella?' and when Edward nodded, I said something like, 'Her mother is already so desperate to catch me for her that I'll wager you she won't even mind if I pick up her daughter's skirts right here and now and…"

I gasped. "That's disgusting, Peter! And _what_?" I asked, scowling as I waited for the rest.

"And…and that's it. I wasn't even able to finish articulating my sentence before I got punched in the mouth."

"Serves you right," I smirked. "That was a pretty vulgar thing to say."

"And I won't deny that it was. Though, I would've never done it, Isabella. I just wanted to see if I could get under Edward's skin. However, I didn't expect to get punched."

"Peter, you have a strange way of making friends."

He snorted. "Alright, alright. But do you truly believe that the punishment fit the crime?"

"If you mean do I believe you would've deserved to lose a tooth or two, then yes, I do."

"That's not what I meant," he snickered. "Yes, I agree I deserved the punch in the mouth, but Edward has never forgiven nor forgotten, and I'm not so sure he doesn't just use the entire incident as an excuse to believe me morally bankrupt in every possible way and thereby justify his hatred and jealousy of me."

"He's not jealous of you, Peter," I assured him. "He has _never_ envied you your money or your position."

"No, you're right. He doesn't envy me any of _that_." He crossed his arms against his chest and gave me a meaningful look.

"Well, he can't envy you because of me because I'm not yours, I'm his. And I'll _always_ be his."

"Very direct, aren't you?"

"I've come to learn that with you, it's better to be so."

"Tell me the truth, Isabella," he laughed. "Aren't you the least bit…sorry that I've moved on from you and that I'm about to propose to another woman?"

"No, Peter," I said emphatically. "There was never anything between us for you to move on from. Though I do wish you the best."

"Ouch," he chuckled. "Alright. Then why does he hate me so much, Isabella? As you said, he _has_ you, and if he were truly so sure of it, truly so convinced that I pose no threat to your relationship, he'd have no reason to despise me as he does."

His words stung, not because of anything they may have implied about Edward's insecurities, but because of what they implied about me. Had I ever done anything to breed those insecurities?

Either way, it was way past time for me to leave.

"Perhaps he simply does believe you to be morally bankrupt; nothing more and nothing less. Now, I really should get back to the party. Mother and Papa Phil will be missing me, and Judith is probably wondering where you are."

Peter snorted. "I should go find her before she starts looking for me and manages to get lost in the dark somewhere. Alright, Isabella. I…" He sighed. "I truly do wish you...and Edward...the best of everything. Always."

"Thank you, Peter. I wish you the best as well."

OOOOOOOOOO

Papa Phil had one more surprise for me that evening. After taking the stage and making a speech about how proud he was of me, how bright my future was, and including all his wishes and expectations for my promising life, he invited everyone to follow us to the front of the resort where under its own private canopy, wrapped in a huge, white bow and with attendants waiting on each side, waited a bright red, 1941 Cadillac Convertible.

Everyone oohed and ahhed appreciatively because we were the privileged few, and despite war and death, and despite the atrocities occurring at a madman's command all over Europe, atrocities of which we were only beginning to hear hushed whispers, _our_ lives were not meant to be changed by this war.

And because I'd promised Edward that I would go on with my life as if fear weren't squeezing my heart from the inside out a little more with each passing day, with each moment that brought us closer to his departure, I took the keys from a smiling Papa Phil, and I thanked him, and I laughed in just the right places as I circled that convertible around the resort.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Miss Dwyer, there was a delivery for you," Mary, one of the maids informed me as we arrived back at the townhouse in the early hours of the morning. "I've placed it in your room."

"Thank you, Mary," I smiled tiredly as I made my way to my bedroom, kicking off my heels on the way. With a huge yawn, I opened my door-

-and choked on a sob when I saw the bouquet of bright, red roses waiting on my nightstand.

Searching quickly for a notecard, I snatched out a thin, rectangular paper as I held one of the de-thorned red roses - exactly like the ones he'd picked for me in Georgia - close to my heart.

It was a telegram:

_Dearest Bella. So proud of you. Wish I was there. Love you. Always._

_Edward A. Cullen._

_Turner Army Airfield, Georgia_

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song # 45: One Dozen Roses (1942) by Harry James:**

_**Give me one dozen roses  
Put my heart in beside them  
And send them to the one I love**_

**_She'll be glad to receive them_**  
**_And I know she'll believe them_**  
**_That's something we've been talking of_**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817 **

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.**

***** When I'd first posted the chapter of the Independence Day BBQ way back when, someone (sorry, I can't remember who) reviewed to tell me that there are no fireflies in Washington. So keeping that in mind, the bit here about the fireflies is inaccurate. But for the story's sake, let's pretend there are fireflies in Washington, and that Bella &amp; Co. played with them when they were younger. ;)**

**Have a great weekend! See you guys soon!**


	45. Chapter 44 - Summer, 1942

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued thoughts. It's been a hectic few months, so thanks for hanging in there with me.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 44 - Summer, 1942**

_June 14, 1942_

_My Dear Edward:_

_I'm writing you this letter from my desk while I watch the final petal from the roses you sent me balance precariously off of the last, lonely stem. The rest of the roses have already given in to the passage of time. I won't lie; it's a slightly morose sight: barren, browned stems, sagging and wilted, devoid of any color or life. _

_Yet in my memory, the roses are all bright and healthy. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel the first, sweet, little thrill from receiving them; I can smell their potent fragrance surrounding me. I can feel your warm mouth on mine as you slid that other rose through my hair back in Savannah. _

_Isn't a good memory a wonderful thing, especially when it keeps our true treasures alive in perpetuity? _

_So once more, thank you for the flowers. They filled me with a joy and hope for the future unlike anything else I received as a celebration of my graduation. _

_Speaking of gifts, as exciting as you found the news of my new car, you may be horribly disappointed to know that I have yet to drive it. Papa Phil insists that I should take it for a short spin despite the "A" sticker I've been issued by the new Rationing Board. "Just around the park," he says, referring to Central Park - as if its surrounding streets are the sweet, low-pedestrian Eden that Forks was last summer when you taught me to drive. Those comparatively empty and forgiving roads had only you, trees, and grass as witnesses to my inability to steer in a straight line, or to how loudly I could actually scream in the face of a woodland creature popping out unexpectedly in front of the car. _

_Go ahead and laugh. You did plenty of laughing during our lessons; I wouldn't expect you to withhold now._

_Honestly, Edward, it's more than winding roads or wayward squirrels that keep me from taking out the car. Not only are leisurely drives frowned upon at the moment, but how do I justify, in my own mind, such an extravagant gift when the war department continuously reminds us of its need for rubber and metal and the conservation of gasoline? Even if I wanted to go for a longer drive, say for example to see you or Charlie, I wouldn't be allowed to by either the government or my stepfather. Where am I to go then - to visit friends, to the fund-raisers and collection drives in midtown? _

_I sound ungrateful; I know, but I assure you, I'm not. I sincerely appreciate Papa Phil's thoughtfulness. He's always been so good to me, and I do realize what he's trying to make me do, just as I know it's what you'd want me to do as well. My mind simply isn't on graduations or cars or parties, Edward. It's on you and me, on the last time I saw you and…and the wonderful things we did._

_It's on when I'll see you next, so we can do those things again. _

_My mind is on praying that somehow, by some miracle, this war will end before summer's end._

_Still, I don't want to hurt Papa Phil's feelings, though I believe he may already suspect my hesitation. Twice already he's reminded me that it's not actually a new car, since even he isn't able to purchase from the remaining low inventory of last year's new cars._

_I suppose that I'll soon take it for a drive down the steaming, paved roads of Manhattan, keeping the top down to afford me some relief from this sweltering, city heat. God, Edward, I never realized that summers here would be so different from those in Washington. There's no fresh air or wide, tall evergreens. The city lacks the breeze that blows off of our sweet, little river. I do miss Forks and your parents so._

_But I'm not going anywhere until I see you._

_I suppose, to appease Papa if nothing else, I should take Tanya up on her invitation and visit her in Connecticut for a weekend. I'll take her for a ride – God knows she'll get a kick out of the car. _

_Either way, whenever I do work up the nerve to get behind that wheel, I'll imagine you sitting by my side, yelling at me to stop worrying about squirrels popping out of nowhere, ordering me to keep the wheel straight, or telling me to ease up on the gas and not to break so hard._

_Even after all of your carrying on, I remember your sweet assurances that I would, indeed, get the hang of it… _

_someday. _

_I do miss you and love you so._

_Yours always,_

_Bella Dwyer_

_OOOOOOOOO_

_June 20, 1942_

_My Sweet Bella:_

_You are the most wonderful fiancée a fellow could ever wish for._

_I received your package yesterday, the day before my birthday. You timed it well._

_Bella Dwyer, you must've used half of your family's sugar ration for the month to make these cookies. No disrespect at all meant to your mother, but she can't be at all too happy about that. Though, I somehow suspect that she simply doesn't know, does she? _

_I don't think I even want to know how you worked that one out._

_Sweetheart, you tell me that the roses I sent you for your graduation were the best gift you could've received, so I'll tell you that I wish I could've done more. I wish I could reach out and give you the moon itself, harness the power of the sun and stars and grant you any wish in the world, like one of those genies from those far-away tales._

_No, that's still not right. You deserve more than make-believe, genie wishes. One day, after this war is over, I'll do my best to give you at least a fraction of what you really deserve. _

_Bella, during those rare moments of peace and quiet around here - mainly when I'm finally lying in my barracks after a long, hectic day - I wrap myself in thoughts of you, in thoughts of all the ways I can be a good husband to you in that wonderful future when you'll be my wife, when I'll hold you in my arms every night. Someday soon, I'll be able to kiss and explore and worship every single part of you the way you were meant to be kissed and worshipped. _

_Before you believe me completely depraved, know that I think of other benefits to our future, married life: a home together, three or four children, who will hopefully all look like you with your dark hair and golden eyes. _

_But to be honest, in my fantasies, I always return to worshipping and kissing you all over._

_Yes, I know the children will come after you've graduated college. Since our engagement, Pop and I have exchanged a few letters about the future (I hope you don't mind). He's told me he thinks he may be ready to retire soon, once this war is over, and we're all back. Pop wonders if, once you and Masen have finished your educations, you'd be interested in taking over his business together, turning it into a family practice. _

_Now, what I'll be doing during all this still isn't completely clear. I'll have to finish the internship I agreed to with your stepfather, and then…we'll see._

_Obviously, Sweetheart, these aren't things we have to decide right now. For now, just know that I dream nightly of having you as my wife._

_But back to the present, I've got to tell you that these cookies are the best darn thing you could've given me for my birthday. Even as I write, I'm just about stuffing them down my throat (and Mac is yelling and moaning and calling me a greedy so and so because I'm not sharing. But these are my birthday cookies. I've got no intention of sharing them). _

_So THANK YOU, my beautiful, beautiful girl. Your sweets have made my twentieth birthday a bit more bearable; although the sweetest gift would've been spending my day with you, maybe doing those things we did the last time we saw each other - those things you tell me you think of as well. _

_God, I'm twenty years old, Bella. How did that happen? How does it feel to be engaged to such an old man? I'll confess to you that when I was twelve, thirteen years old, I imagined my life a bit differently at twenty. I loved you already then, yet being a stupid, young boy, I wasn't ready to admit it to myself, much less to you. I yearned to be up in the air, yet I secretly yearned for someone, for YOU even more than I longed for the glory of the skies. Strange how things worked out, isn't it? I'm here alright, yet I'm still yearning._

_Mac and a couple of the guys took me to town this weekend to "celebrate" my birthday, and I'll make another confession: I may have had one too many beers. (There were no girls as part of this celebration. I just want to make that clear, though I'm sure you know that I'd never do something like that to you.) Anyway, I didn't get completely ridiculous. There was no vomiting, though I admit there was some off-key singing involved, as well as a very bad headache when we were woken up at four a.m. the next morning. As you may have guessed, the U.S. Army doesn't really care much about birthdays around here._

_After drills and calisthenics, I clocked 10 hours of flight time today - two of them with an Instructor Pilot at the controls, and then four of us student pilots shared the remaining time evenly. We're finally learning to fly B-17s now, also known as Flying Fortresses. They've got four-engines, thirteen machine guns in eight different positions, and are manned by a crew of ten! They've got a range of two-thousand miles and can go as fast as two-hundred-eighty-seven miles an hour! I'm telling you, they have no equal up in the air. Once we get enough of these gems over the skies of Europe, Hitler and his Luftwaffe will be running with their tails between their legs!_

_I'm sorry, Sweetheart; I guess I got carried away. It's just that it's a very impressive aircraft, but I suppose I should save the specs of it for my letter to Masen. _

_Moving on, we flew a "round-robin" today, which is simply a long flight passing over a number of cities before ending where we began. Then we had a couple of hours of ground school, and now I'm exhausted, Sweetheart. _

_But I don't want to end this letter without telling you that I hope you've driven your car by now. In my mind, Bella, I picture you driving down those city streets with the top down and the wind blowing through your silky, dark hair while your golden eyes sparkle and your sweet, red lips turn up at the ends in an exhilarated grin. _

_That thought is…well, it's just beautiful is what it is._

_Drive it, Sweetheart. Enjoy it. Don't let this war alter your life any more than it already has. We can't change the fact that we're not together - at least, not right now – but Bella, please do this for me: enjoy the pleasures you do have before you. Don't let useless guilt stop you from enjoying what you rightfully deserve. And go see Charlie. You may not be allowed to drive your car that far, but he's only a day away by train. Now that I'm in transition training, I won't be going anywhere for a while yet, Bella, so please, live your life, Sweetheart. Knowing you're safe and doing well is what keeps me going during the day. But at night, when I lie in my barracks after a long day of drills and exercise and flying, I need to picture you laughing that beautiful laugh of yours, enjoying your life - being happy. _

_I love you._

_Your future husband,_

_Edward A. Cullen _

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_July 16, 1942_

_My Dear Edward:_

_I've just returned from a few days in Chicago and had THREE of your wonderful letters waiting for me!_

_Charlie is doing very well, thank you. Our visit was much quieter than any of our visits have ever been – which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just different._

_This visit, it was just Charlie and me - no new horrors or surprises with which to deal. Billy visited on a couple of evenings. He's doing better as well, though his sadness is still etched deep into his face throughout the lines marring his forehead, and it's evident in the downward turn of his mouth. I don't know that his pain will ever go away, but at least the despondency that seemed to seep from his very soul when I last saw him seems to have eased. It was strange, the three of us sitting around the house without buoyant, cheerful Jacob, yet though his absence was sorely felt, we were able to recall a few memories of him - a few times of us together, and we were able smile through them. I believe that signals some sort of an improvement, doesn't it? It makes me believe that perhaps someday, most of my memories of him will bring comfort rather than sadness. _

_I've something else to tell you regarding Jacob, and then I'll move on to another topic. _

_Billy tells me that a couple of months after Jacob's passing, he received a letter from a girl in Honolulu, a nurse by the name of Leani, who is stationed at the naval base. She said she'd been very close to Jacob, especially in those last couple of months before the attack on Pearl Harbor. She said she'd been too heartbroken to write immediately after his passing, but she wanted to assure Billy and all his loved ones that as far as she'd been able to tell, his final days had been happy, fulfilled ones. _

_That was it, and I suppose it's up to us to translate the rest._

_If I know you at all, you're probably wondering how this makes me feel after the guilt I carried around due to how long it took me to be honest with him about you and me. It's probably too much to cover in a letter, but at the very least, I'll tell you that this information gave me both peace and grief: peace because I'd truly love to believe that there was no broken heart for Jacob to deal with during his final days on this earth, and grief because of all the lost potential there may have been between him and his Leani._

_The rest of the visit was just Charlie and I spending a few, relatively silent yet comfortable days together. This may sound slightly revolting, but I wonder sometimes how Mother and Charlie even got as far as creating me, Edward. They are such totally different individuals, but then I remember that wonderfully pleasurable, explosively all-consuming sensation that night in my room in Savannah, and though I know that you and I love one another immeasurably, I think I can understand now how two people who had no business being together may have gotten a bit carried away and may have confused that sensation for something that wasn't there. _

_Nevertheless, Charlie seems satisfied, if not entirely content. He takes his duties as teacher and air-raid warden for our neighborhood very seriously. The children write poems, he tells me, about the devastation of the Pearl Harbor attack, but also about the successful Doolittle Raid over Tokyo and our victory off Midway Island last month. They're young, but it's good for their minds and souls, so he tells me. He feels that even children need to release their fears so that they don't keep them all locked in and allow them to fester and grow. _

_Maybe I'll try my hand at poem-writing._

_Oh yes, and there was an air-raid drill while I was in Chicago. Charlie went out in his hard helmet and white badge around his sleeve to make his rounds while I stayed with Billy, and after closing all the black-out curtains and turning off the lights, I helped him huddle under the table where we sat for an hour and played cards by the faint light trickling in from the bathroom. _

_Charlie sends you his best. I shared with him some of the "specs" you shared with me regarding the B-17s and told him how you're now actually piloting the aircrafts on your own for six to ten hours at a time. He was properly impressed. I also showed him the picture you sent me of you in your flight gear, and while he may not have been as impressed by that as I was, he's asked me to ask you to send him a picture of one of these "mighty" Flying Fortresses when you can._

_It fills me with so much warmth, Edward, to see how openly he approves of you and our engagement. _

_Alright, Darling. I'll bring this letter to a close and only add that I'm here waiting, Edward, for you to come to me._

_And now I'll move on to two more letters I have: one from Rose and one from Alice. _

_Love you so much, and thank you for encouraging me to visit Charlie. I would've regretted leaving for college without spending some time with him._

_Always,_

_Bella Dwyer._

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_July 19, 1942_

_Dear Edward:_

_I'm so happy to know you've heard from Masen! Rose has written to tell me that she's heard from him as well! _

_Of course I knew you were worried about your brother, Edward. No, you never came out and said it, but I knew. How could you not be? I agree with you. For now, I'm happier having him in England complaining about spending his days exercising and running drills in the cold and damp English countryside rather than in North Africa fighting Rommel at El Alamein. The radio and newsreels assure us that the tides are turning in the East, but when will they turn in Europe and Africa?_

_(Jesus, the East, Africa, Europe – it's the whole world, Edward. Do you ever stop to think, I mean really think that this war is EVERYWHERE - Australia, Mexico, South America, and Canada? We wouldn't be able to escape it even if we tried, would we?)_

_Rose tells me that a small portion of Masen's letter to her was also censored, as you say was the letter you received from him. It's like that poster of the sinking ship that I saw hanging at the El station in Chicago: "Loose Lips Sink Ships." I suppose it'll take Masen some time to figure out what he can and can't write home about._

_Alright, Darling, I have to get to bed now. I have an early morning donations drop off for supplies I'd begun collecting before my visit to Chicago. Mother had one of her infamous fits yesterday because we've collected so much that everything is spilling out into the lobby, and she shrieked that I've made the entire building look like one of those homeless shelters from about a decade ago. Before she goes into complete convulsions, Tanya is coming to help me take everything down to Red Cross Headquarters tomorrow. (We'll be going in my red car, by the way. I hope that makes you smile)._

_I'm still waiting for you. Love you. Always._

_Bella Dwyer (some day, Cullen)._

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_July 22, 1942_

_My Sweet Bella:_

_I'm sorry I haven't written in a couple of days. Things are so hectic around here. We fly round robins all day, ground school in the afternoons. They're getting us ready for graduation, though we still don't know exactly when nor where we'll be sent afterwards, but we're all betting on England. The first units of B-17Es have already been sent off to Europe and are finishing their training there. Seems like lots of fellows are needing our barracks here, so it looks like we'll be doing the same soon._

_I'm missing you so much today, Bella. I miss you every day, but some days, it's like I can't breathe from my need for you. _

_I remember that day last summer when we were by the river. Do you remember that day? It was right before Alice and Jasper's wedding, and we'd had a bit of a cool spell, but the sun came out that day, and we all headed for the river. You were lying on the grass afterwards, looking so beautiful in your pretty, polka-dot swimsuit, with your dark hair splayed all around you and your sweet body so shapely and tempting. Your lips were puckered in a song, and you didn't know it, but I just drank you in and drank you in, Bella, aching for you so badly. And when you opened your eyes, you looked so happy and peaceful I just wanted to wrap myself around you, to lose myself with you, inside you and bury my face in your hair as my body fell over yours._

_And then you asked me if I believed we make our own heaven when we die. _

_You are my heaven, Bella. You're the best part of my life. You're where I go when my soul needs to feel alive. You're the last sight behind my lids when I close my eyes at night and the first sight my mind conjures when I open my eyes come morning. What things are like once this life is over, I have no idea. But as long as I'm here, you're my life._

_I'll let you know as soon as we hear what the next steps are. God-willing, I'll be seeing you soon._

_All my love. Always._

_Edward A. Cullen_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_July 27, 1942_

_My Dear Edward:_

_You were feeling melancholic the other day. I could tell by the tone of your letter. Did something happen? Tanya tells me one of her friends told her that sometimes, there are accidents in training. God, Edward, I just…I can't even think of such things. I wish I could be with you so that you could tell me what was bothering you that day. As much as we write, there's so much more that I wish we could say. Things we only touch upon, things we barely even discuss._

_That day you mentioned, the one by the river, I think of it often, Edward. It was a perfect day. We were all together and happy, and our biggest cares were Mother's constant nagging and what the weather would be like for Alice and Jasper's wedding. It was all only a year ago, but sometimes it feels as if we've aged a decade since then. Masen is in England, you'll be leaving soon, and Rose will deliver without her husband by her side. Alice is in California training with the Army as well, and only God knows what's going through Jasper's head._

_Edward, I know you're busy, my love, but have you tried writing him again? As you know, Alice and I have resumed a correspondence, though there's still some tension I hope we can resolve once I'm back on the west coast. She tells me Jasper refuses to write her. She couldn't admit to being married to enter the nursing cadet program, and when she received a pass a couple of weekends ago and went home, Jasper refused to see her. So instead of spending time with her husband, she spent the weekend in her childhood home with your parents._

_My heart is breaking for them, Edward. No, I wouldn't have made the same choices she made, but as Rose reminded me when she was here, we've all led different lives. I won't judge her decisions. I suppose we all make choices with which others may not agree, and only time will tell if we live to regret them._

_I just wish we could all go back to that day by the river. _

_If you can find the time, please write to Jasper, Edward, even if it means one less letter for me. See if he'll open up to you. If time permits, I'd like to go back to Forks for a short stay before I start my classes in September. But I suppose all our schedules are at the mercy of the U.S. Army at the moment._

_I love you, miss you, and can't wait to see you._

_Bella Dwyer_

_OOOOOOOOOO _

_August 1, 1942_

_My Sweet Bella:_

_You have no idea how much I loved getting that picture of you in the driver's seat of your red convertible. Please thank Tanya over and over for me for taking that picture._

_Bella, seriously, you have no idea what it does to me seeing you looking so beautiful, smiling so widely while your hands wrap around that steering wheel. I imagine your lipstick is the same shade as your car, and the thought of it just about takes my breath away. You look extremely tempting and desirable, and if I could come to New York right now, I think I'd just about ravish you. _

_I hope you don't think me too vulgar when I write these things to you. Please don't be offended by my need for you. I just miss you so much, Sweetheart._

_Bella, I'm afraid I have bad news, and it kills me to have to write this when I know you've been waiting for me all summer, and I've been dreaming of seeing you driving that car in person. But Sweetheart, I'm afraid it's looking like the U.S. Army's schedule simply won't allow it. _

_The officer's commissioning ceremony has been scheduled for the end of August here in Georgia. I was hoping it would've been earlier to give me time to come see you afterwards, even if it was just for a day or two before I had to head to wherever they send me next, and though I haven't been given any real information, it seems likely my class will be headed to England the first week of September, where we'll work with our crew to complete our training before beginning our tour of duty. _

_Bella, it's time for you to head to Washington. Please don't argue with Philip over this; there's no point. You've waited for me all summer and cut it close as it is. Now, you'll need a few days to settle everything before classes begin, and I certainly don't want you missing your first few days of college, Bella. You just can't. _

_Sweetheart, we have so many wonderful memories to hold on to while I'm away: two, beautiful summers in Forks, my visit to you two winters ago, so many days by the river, a few nights we were able to sneak together, and though our time in Savannah was short, it was one of the most beautiful days of my life. We kissed, we danced, you agreed to become my wife, and…and we gave each other the most pleasurable time that I've ever experienced. If these memories are all we'll have until I return from duty, then I'll hold on tightly to them until we can make more._

_My heart is true and loyal to you. Always._

_Edward A. Cullen_

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song # 46: He Wears a Pair of Silver Wings (1942) by Kay Kyser:**

_**Although some people say he's just a crazy guy**__**  
**__**To me he means a million other things**__**  
**__**For he's the one who taught this happy heart of mine to fly**__**  
**__**He wears a pair of silver wings**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a good weekend. See you soon!**


	46. Chapter 45 - Holding On

**A/N: Is everyone having a good summer? Good!**

**Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 45 - Holding On**

* * *

"On a hazy, hot, and humid mid-August day in 1942, Papa Phil, Mother and I stood by the platform to the _Union Builder_ at Grand Central Station, in preparation for my trip west to start college.

At the same time in Europe, twelve B-17 heavy bombers flew the first combat mission of the newly-formed Eighth Air Force, bombing a strategically-placed rail yard in Rouen, France."

"Was the copper-haired young man part of that mission?" Skye asks.

"No," I smile, "not yet. But he'd soon become part of "The Mighty Eighth," the air force armada which would, for the remainder of the war, assume responsibility for daylight bombings over Hitler's Fortified Europe. The British Royal Air Force, brought to the brink of extinction after three years of warfare, would continue nighttime raids. Between both, they hoped to establish air supremacy over the continent and prepare it for an eventual Allied invasion."

"It sounds like it was a great plan, Nana," Olivia says, "combining forces to bomb the Nazis day and night. Hitler's _Luftwaffe_ couldn't possibly have held up for long against that."

"In theory, it was a tactically shrewd plan," I concede with a nod. "Unfortunately, little did the young men flying these '_Fortresses'_ know that over the next two years, they'd be sacrificed like lamb to lions, bearing the brunt of European combat and experiencing casualty rates which were on that warm day in August of 1942, unimaginable."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Have you all your travel documents?" Papa Phil asked, breaking my focus away from a couple of young officers a few feet away and the way the silver wings on their caps glinted in the daylight. As had become the norm for train travel to anywhere in the country, hundreds and hundreds of troops, loud and boisterous, crowded the platform that morning.

"Yes, Sir," I nodded, patting my small purse.

"Your school documents don't fit there," he said, raising a brow.

"They're with my luggage."

"Very well. Your automobile has been shipped and will be waiting for you upon your arrival in Washington, but please keep in mind your gasoline ration limits."

"I will. Thank you, Papa, for your help in getting everything ready."

Unexpectedly, he drew me into his arms, and when he pulled away, an encouraging smile was etched across his face. "You'll do fine, Isabella. It must seem daunting, being one of only a handful of females in the program, but you have always been up for a challenge, and-"

"I'm not afraid at all," I guaranteed with a shake of the head. "I just…I just wish…"

Then I just swallowed back words that would simply hurt to utter, words that would change nothing.

But I suppose he knew me well enough.

"I understand," he said, surprising me with the empathy in his tone, as he sometimes did. "War doesn't always conform to our plans though, Isabella. It's a lesson I would've preferred to spare you, at least for a while, but…" He drew in a breath and exhaled it heavily; then clearing his throat, reverted to his usual, commanding self - "I've opened up an account in Seattle for you to withdraw from as needed. We'll expect your return for the holidays, and if there's anything you need between now and then, make sure you reach out."

"I will, Papa."

"Also, I know you'll be spending a few days in Forks before your classes begin, but please make sure you return to Seattle with sufficient time to settle in before the beginning of the semester. As upset as I know you are about being unable to see your fiancé off to Europe, I'm sure he would want you to get started on the right foot."

"I'm sure he would," I agreed, and as I said it, I couldn't help the flicker of resentment that surged through me that was not only towards the war, but also towards schedules and the U.S. Army and…and even towards Edward.

Papa Phil placed a quick kiss on my forehead. "Goodbye, Isabella. Now, I'll leave you to your mother." And with that, he walked away.

I wish I could say that Mother and I exchanged some meaningful words - that there was a softening on her part or even on mine. Looking back now, that early morning in 1942, while standing on that busy platform, may have been our final chance to make things right, to try to understand one another.

Instead, Mother took two steps forward and kissed me, her lips cool and brisk upon my cheek. She focused on wiping a lipstick smudge off my face as she spoke.

"Goodbye, Isabella," she sighed, her disappointment in both me and my decisions reflected clearly in her blue eyes. "Please do take care of yourself. And write."

"I will, Mother. Goodbye."

As I listened to the sharp sound of her elegant heels clicking against the concrete platform, I wanted to call out to her, to plead with her to understand me, to be there for me as I embarked on this new phase in my life…to love me and support me as I longed and prayed for Edward.

Instead, when the whistle blew, I boarded the train.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was an uneventful train ride. Having taken it so many times before, I was familiar with the landscape that whirred by in a flash of colors. I knew when one state turned into another, when rolling hills morphed into green prairies or when those prairies gave way to majestic mountains. I also knew that with every state we crossed, with every invisible border, I was moving further and further away from Edward.

Nevertheless, almost four days later when the whistle announced my arrival into Seattle, I drew in a deep breath and smiled. No matter what, I was still a young, almost-eighteen-year-old girl now on my own. At that age, no matter what else is going on in the world or in your heart, freedom is a sweet thing.

And so with the help of the porters, my two bags of luggage were loaded into the trunk of my car. The majority of my things had been sent ahead the week before and were already waiting in the small, woman's dormitory in which I would be living for the next few years.

But for the next few days, I was headed for Forks.

OOOOOOOOOO

The last time I'd been in Forks had been the previous Christmas, right after the Pearl Harbor attack, and right after Edward and Masen had enlisted. At that time, Jasper, Alice and Gus had still been around, keeping the house from feeling too large and empty during the days.

Now, there were hugs and more than a few tears between the five of us left: Esme, Carlisle, Rose, Sandy and me. Esme and Carlisle seemed older than they had when I'd last seen them. The stress of having all three of their children gearing up for war was evident in the lines around their eyes, in dark circles that spoke of restless nights.

Yet, Esme's smile was as bright as ever. She lifted my left hand and gazed lovingly at the ring her son had given me.

"He made the right choice," she said.

"Yes, he did," I agreed before realizing she wasn't merely referring to the ring.

And then the four of us sat around the small, living room and caught up, much the same way we'd been doing for the past eight years. After anxious and excited whimpers and licks, Sandy fell into a restful slumber on my lap, and I fell into a comfortable and easy rhythm I'd almost forgotten.

We spent a couple of days getting to know one another again. I wrote to Edward nightly, knowing that with every day that passed, he was closer to his graduation, to his commissioning as Second Lieutenant…to his departure overseas. In the misty yet soothing coolness that marked the end-of-summer in Forks, I waited for his phone call - for my last opportunity to hear his voice before his deployment, for an address to where I could send my letters.

Rose, hugely pregnant now, spent her mornings doing what little she could manage. On my third day there, I woke up before the sun rose and made my way downstairs. Rose and Esme were already in the kitchen. Round and uncomfortable, Rose hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep since I'd arrived. Now Esme was preparing her one of her magical brews to help her rest. I helped make breakfast, and then I gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be back in a little while."

"Where are you headed?" Rose asked, smiling despite her physical discomfort.

I paused by the back door with Sandy at my side.

"To see Jasper. I want to catch him before he leaves for work."

Esme set down the dish she'd been scrubbing and drying her hands, turned to me.

"Sweetheart, Jasper has changed since you last saw him. I don't know that going to see him is such a good idea."

"But I'd like to-"

"We've tried, Bella," she assured me gently. "Alice is my daughter, and I love her with all my heart, but I do understand Jasper's feelings."

"Esme, I'm not going there on Alice's behalf or even as Alice's friend. I was his friend once too."

"The thing is, Bella," Rose said, awkwardly shifting on the chair and rubbing her belly round and round, "since Alice left, he doesn't want to see or speak to any of us."

I looked from one to the other, remembering those easy days when we were kids - when we were there for each other through everything: every scrape and break and argument and fight.

"I have to try."

OOOOOOOOOO

Soon after Alice and Jasper's wedding, Jasper's father moved back to Alaska, leaving the house he shared with Jasper to the newlyweds. It was a small house, but the property itself was decently-sized. We'd all worked quickly to make the house welcoming: Rose, Esme and I had helped Alice plant colorful flowers around the front lot while Jasper and the boys cleaned up the landscape, pulled weeds, re-fertilized, repainted the siding, and replaced shutters. The boys picked up some rocks from the quarry a few miles away and lined the gravel driveway while Carlisle built a cozy, white wooden bench and placed it just under one of the evergreens close to the house. Alice and I had joked that it wasn't our swing, but it would do. A new coat of paint and a few of Esme's well-placed knick knacks and doilies breathed some fresh life into the interior of the house, and by the time we were done, the entire property was ready for a couple full of so much love and promise that there could be nothing but bright days ahead of them.

As I arrived that early morning and slowly circled my car around the dirty path which had once been a gravel driveway, Jasper was already outside. He couldn't have failed to see or hear my approach, yet it was the two, large dogs with him who reacted with barking and howling. When they appeared to have made up their minds to run to the car, Jasper halted them mid-stride with a sharply spoken command.

While Sandy and I emerged from the car, Gus bounded towards us from the direction of the house. There was a sweet and rather rambunctious reunion between him and Sandy, reminding me that they probably hadn't seen one another for a while. I made my way towards Jasper with Gus and Sandy flanking me on either side, and all the while, two sets of German Shepherd eyes - or should I say _Alsatian_ eyes, as the breed had been unofficially renamed during the war - shifted warily between us.

"Bella, I need you to please wait by the bench with the dogs. These here don't know you or Sandy, and you're making them nervous."

"Oh, sorry." I halted and made an about-face.

"Let me finish, and I'll be right with you."

"Alright, Jasper. I apologize for interrupting. Come on, Guys," I instructed Sandy and Gus.

We walked back towards the bench, where I took a seat while Gus and Sandy lay at my feet, and for over a half hour, I watched Jasper with those dogs. They climbed a couple of corrugated iron structures that resembled those home-made air-raid structures the Brits used to keep from being blown to smithereens. They crawled inside the structures and dug under and around them. Each time, they'd locate an item and quickly carry it back to Jasper, depositing their find at his feet like a tribute to a king. They ran into the woods and disappeared for a while before returning at different intervals, each with something in their mouths, which at first I thought to be skinned rabbits but then realized were articles of clothing. After every successful event, Jasper would reward them with praise or snacks or both before sending them off to their next task.

And just as when I'd been a young girl, I sat there completely engrossed by how good he was with them, how great he'd always been at communicating with his dogs. It was as if he spoke a different language, one only he and the dogs were able to understand.

With one final command, the dogs dropped onto their hind legs and remained there.

As Jasper walked towards me, I noted the wrinkles in his woolen pants, the way his suspenders twisted around themselves at his sides, the various stains on his white shirt. His gait was slow - the once almost imperceptible limp appeared to weigh him down more than I remembered it doing so.

An image of he and Alice dancing at their wedding flashed through my mind and then another of he and Edward pretending to fight under the large and magnificent evergreen.

He removed his cap, and when he finally met my gaze, it was through red, bloodshot eyes. A slight, unkempt beard covered his jaw and cheeks. The stench of stale cigarettes and liquor permeated the air around him.

"Jasper," I smiled softly.

"How are you, Bella?" he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with deep lines though he only faintly returned the smile.

"I'm okay. It's been…quite an eventful few months since we last saw each other."

He snorted and looked past me towards the tree line. "Yes, it certainly has."

An awkward silence ensued. We listened to the breeze blowing through the branches, to Gus and Sandy's heavy yet even pants complimenting each other from under the bench.

"You've always been so great with canines," I finally said.

He smirked. "Yeah, well. County's paying me to train them to assist the air-raid wardens."

"Really? That's amazing. If anyone can train them for that job, it's certainly you."

He met my eyes again. "So what are you doing here, Bella?"

"I'm going to college in Seattle," I smiled. "I'll be starting in a few days."

"College, huh?" He snorted. "Seems like being a modern woman is the latest fashion. Congratulations," he grinned.

"Thank you," I said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm. "I figured I'd spend some time in Forks beforehand. Maybe if I'm lucky, Rose and Masen's baby will be born before I leave."

He nodded blankly. "How is she doing?"

"She's doing well, though very big and very tired."

"Suppose it can't be easy," he shrugged. "Esme and Carlisle?"

"They're doing well for the most part. Missing their kids, of course. They'd like to see you around a bit more."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "How's Ed?"

"He's receiving his commission as Second Lieutenant today, and he'll be heading overseas soon. We don't know exactly when yet."

He gave me another dull nod.

"We're engaged," I smiled, holding up my ring.

He barely gave it a cursory glance. "I heard. Congratulations."

I sighed. "He's written you, Jasper."

"I know. I…" His eyes shifted uncomfortably to his worn, muddy boots. "I don't have anything to write back to him - 'cept news about those of us useless folk left at the mill. Maybe I'll join one of those gossipy women's auxiliary groups and write him about that," he sneered.

"It seems to me you'd have plenty to write," I contradicted. "Your work with the dogs is extraordinary, Jasper. Besides, Edward just wants to know that you're okay."

"That I'm okay," he mimicked with a snort. "I've gotta get these dogs settled in before I head to work. Good to see you, Bella. Tell Ed I said congratulations on the commission and the engagement."

And with that, he turned to leave.

"Jasper, don't be this way. I know things are hard right now, but-"

With a loud and mocking laugh, he rounded on me, stalking to where I now stood. "_You_ know things are hard?" he questioned, nostrils flaring, red-rimmed eyes cold and too close. "_You_ know things are hard? Little Girl, when was the last time anything was hard for you? Always had that stepdaddy of yours to make things nice and easy."

"Don't do this, Jasper. I didn't come here to argue."

"Then what did you come here for?" he yelled. When I jerked back my head, startled at the fury in his tone, he took a step back, and a sliver of shame crossed his features. Yet in the next second, he stalked right back to me. "Coming and going all these years as you pleased," he scowled. "All that coming and going of yours is probably what made my wife so restless!"

"Jasper-"

"No," he shook his head quickly. "No, I won't blame you. That one was restless since the accursed day I met her. Guess I was just too stupid and useless to see it."

"You're not stupid or useless, Jasper. And I do know it hurts. Edward is far away from me too," I said shakily. "Believe me, I know what it feels like."

He shook his head, his top lip curling in disgust. "Fucking Cullens. God-damn, fucking Cullens," he hissed while I forced myself not to cringe at his words or to grimace at the sharp scent of liquor on his breath.

"It's not at them that you're angry, Jasper."

"No?" he grinned. "Then who am I angry at, Little Miss Know-it-all? Everything always has to be their way, doesn't it?"

"No, Jasper. That's not true, and you know it. You're upset, and I understand; I do." I reached out and carefully laid a comforting hand on his arm. "It's hard being left behind, feeling as if we come second. I came here to see you because I _understand_, Jasper. But maybe…maybe _our_ job is to support them, to keep things going here in any and every way we can so that when they return, we can figure out the rest _together_."

His head was already shaking halfway through my sentence. "You've always stood by him, no matter what, haven't you? No matter what he did - called you Little Girl when he knew it bothered you, yet you came back for more. Scared you, teased you, flaunted another girl in your face," he spit, "yet there you still were, always so full of hope!"

I withdrew my hand as if he'd burned me, because he may as well have. "You're just being cruel now, Jasper! I didn't come here to be belittled by you!"

"Then leave, Bella!" he yelled, viciously pointing at my car. "Get back into your fancy automobile, and go back to your travels and your college and leave me be! You may be fine and dandy playing second fiddle to a war, but I sure as hell ain't! She made her choice!"

"Did she?" I yelled back. "Or is it you who's trying to force her to choose between you and her dreams, who's trying to punish her because she had the opportunity to go while you were forced to stay?!"

"Get out, Bella," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You don't know a thing about me, Little Rich Girl! Go!" he howled so loudly that his dogs immediately stood at attention, wary growls rumbling deep in their chests. Without taking his burning eyes off of me, he lifted a hand in their direction and turned it palm down. The dogs lay on their stomachs.

"Go Bella," he said much more quietly yet with a coldness I'd never dreamed of coming from him. "Tell Ed I wish him the best. Goodbye."

"Jasper, don't shut us all out this way!" I pleaded with his retreating form. "We all care about you!"

But he just kept walking, Gus now at his side.

"Jasper!"

OOOOOOOOOO

Disappointment and frustration burned through me like wildfire on the ride back to the Cullen's.

With the top down and the cool breeze blowing through Sandy's mane and my hair, I cursed my stupidity and my misplaced high hopes. At some point since I'd arrived in Forks, I'd convinced myself that _I_ would be the one to mend the rift between Jasper and the Cullens, even the problems between Jasper and his own wife. I'd egotistically appointed myself the savior to their relationship, the one who would make Jasper see reason, who'd help him accept, as I had, that we had to stand steadfastly by those we loved.

I'd persuaded myself that _this_ was the reason I wouldn't see Edward before he left for overseas: because it was my job to fix things between Jasper and Alice. This was the good deed I'd accomplish that would _almost_ make up for being unable to see Edward.

And knowing now how overinflated my hopes had been, knowing that…that I wouldn't see Edward before he left, and that I'd have nothing…absolutely _nothing_ to show for it…it…

It broke me.

The heavens rained heavy droplets of punishment over me. I supposed they were meant to rid me of my hubris, to set me down and remind me that though I may have been "free" now, and though I may have been stepdaughter to one of the most powerful men in America, _I_ was nothing more than a foolish, immature and quite powerless girl.

Sandy leaned over and licked off the mixture of tears and precipitation from my cheeks, and I held her close, sobbing openly as I drove with one hand, all the while hearing Edward's voice in my head ordering me to "keep both hands on the steering wheel at all times!"

When I arrived at the Cullens, I wasn't sure how I'd manage to hide the despair I'd fallen into.

As it turned out, I didn't have time to hide anything.

I walked into a house that greeted me with loud moans and cries coming from somewhere upstairs. Wet and dripping over Esme's clean floors, it was a combination of those sounds and my saturated state that sent a shiver up my spine.

Esme's voice snapped me out of my pity party. "Bella, Darling, is that you?"

"Yes, Esme!"

"Sweetheart, Rose's water broke! Please set a couple of pots of water to boil and bring up my bag, clean towels, and sheets!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Completely forgetting the distress from just a minute ago, I sprang into action and set water to boil, grabbed the bag where Esme kept her instruments, found clean sheets and towels and after taking thirty seconds to change out of my damp clothes, met Esme in Rose's room – Masen's old room.

Now describing a woman's labor is something which is way beyond my powers of narration. Suffice it to say that within minutes, Rose went from a young, beautiful mother-to-be, excitedly smiling through her initial contractions, to a she-devil howling and screaming something awful and equipped with a vocabulary I wouldn't even have expected from a seasoned sailor.

"Your labor is progressing very quickly, Rose," Esme said encouragingly as she placed her instruments into one of the pots of boiling water. "That's very, very good."

"Easy for you to say!" Rose snapped. "_Ohhhh_! Damn it all to hell!"

Indeed, it was a quick labor. She went from a couple of centimeters dilated to ten centimeters in less than an hour. Now, I'd attended a few animal births over my summers in Forks, so I found the entire process not entirely foreign; although, thinking back on it, comparing her labor aloud to the labor of animals while she was in the throes of agony probably wasn't the wisest thing I did that day, and it earned me a few choice words from her new vernacular. My point was that since I was hoping to be a veterinarian someday, I wasn't squeamish, and I was more than ready to assist.

And assist I did. While Esme monitored Rose's progress and instructed her on how to squat and bear down, how and when to push, and how to redirect her pain and fury away from us and towards her center so that the baby could come into this world swiftly, I dipped Esme's instruments inside the pot of boiling water and then dried them thoroughly, handing her what she needed as requested. I allowed Rose to hold my hand and crush it to the point where I could hear my unfortunate bones cracking. I wiped away beads of sweat gathering over Rose's brow. I pushed back tendrils of damp, blond hair, and I chuckled mirthfully at the filth spewing out of her mouth.

And when, at twelve twenty-seven p.m. on the afternoon of August 27th, 1942, Masen Sebastian Cullen Junior screamed his way into the world, it was I who had the privilege of cutting the umbilical cord while Esme held her new grandson and assured Rose through tears that he was absolutely, magnificently, and amazingly perfect.

"Please," Rose pleaded tiredly and much more calmly than she'd been a handful of minutes ago, "please let me hold him."

"Just one second," Esme breathed while we watched her clean off the baby before swaddling him in the blankets we'd kept warm. "Just let me get this little prince ready for you."

"He's an angry, little man is what he is!" I teased, chuckling at the way he filled the room with his demanding cries.

"He's just hungry," Esme murmured, gently laying the baby on Rose's chest. "We place him high so that he can find the breast and so as not to disturb Rose's womb," she instructed. "Bella, help turn him and guide him towards the nipple. There you go. Perfect. Now I'm going to get to some sewing down there which you won't even feel."

"Oh! He's nursing already!" Rose chuckled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It's instinctual," I smiled. "They all suckle instinctively, don't they Esme, whether human child or pi…" I trailed off at the sharp glare Rose gave me. "He's beautiful," I breathed, awed by the sight before me – that first bonding moment between mother and child. "And he looks just like Masen!"

And while Little Masen attended to his first feeding, the three of us gathered around him - lost in our own thoughts. I recall what I was thinking, of course. Back from the brink of despair, my hope and innocence had been renewed, and I pondered at the wonder of life, marveled at the miracle of birth and of two people loving each other so much that their love would create something so perfect. I wondered if Edward and I would ever create such perfection together, and I thought to myself that maybe…just maybe, witnessing such a miracle had made up – somewhat - for not seeing Edward before he left.

Now, all these decades later, I'm able to stop and think of someone other than myself in that room that afternoon: Rose's tears which were probably not only for her new child but for his father, who wasn't present to witness his son's entry into the world. I can also imagine all the things that must've been going through Esme's mind: being a grandmother now, seeing her son recreated in such a tiny being, wishing her own son was still small enough to keep safe within her arms, thinking of the child's grandfather.

Rose labored so quickly that by the time Carlisle arrived home that afternoon from making house calls to a couple of his older (and larger) patients, he'd missed the whole thing.

That evening, while Esme and Carlisle were in Rose's room admiring their new grandson, I made a telephone call home, reversing the charges. Mother was out, so Papa Phil and I exchanged pleasantries, and after he scolded me for still being in Forks when I should've already been settled into my dormitory in Seattle, I gave him some of the news of the past few days.

"I _will_ leave soon, Papa, but Rose gave birth to a beautiful, healthy, baby boy this afternoon, and I want to stay and help for a couple of days."

"Well," Papa Phil said. "Well, then. Please give my congratulations to Rosalie, and ask her to pass on my congratulations to young Masen when she writes him. Has she chosen a name?"

"She and Masen already agreed that if she had a boy, they'd name him Masen Cullen Junior."

"Masen Cullen. He's a father now," he added after a short pause.

"Yes. Yes, he is."

OOOOOOOOOO

A couple of days came and went, and still I remained in Forks, helping Rose as much as possible, keeping her company, helping her change the baby, holding him while she wrote to Masen. Between the three of us, Rose and Little Masen wanted for nothing. I went into town the day after he was born and just about ordered one of everything for him from the Sears catalog at the Stanley's Mercantile. At eight pounds, two ounces and twenty-two inches, he was a fat, healthy one, and I was in such love that I couldn't imagine ever leaving.

It was during a rainy afternoon, when Little Masen was three days old, and I was holding him and cooing and making all those sounds you make when speaking to an infant that Rose looked up from the letter she was writing Masen.

"Bella, you know I love you with all my heart, but it's time for you to go."

I frowned. "Do you want to sleep? I can take Little Masen with me so you can nap for a short-"

She smiled softly and shook her head. "No, Bella. I mean it's time for you to get to Seattle."

My eyes fell to the baby in my arms, and I swallowed thickly. "I know, but-"

"I know you're upset that you didn't get to say goodbye to him, but staying here isn't going to change that or make time move quicker. What _will_ make time move quicker is if you keep yourself busy."

"I know that; I do," I choked. It's just…I write to him every night, but I don't mail them because I have no idea where to mail them. I told him of Little Masen's birth," I smiled through my tears, "I even told him of how…badly things went with Jasper the other day." My head snapped up. "Why hasn't he called?" I sobbed quietly so as not to disturb Little Masen. "He knew I was coming to Forks. Why hasn't he called? I don't even know if he's gone overseas. I could deal with the rest if I at least knew where he was - what was going on with him."

Rose sighed and held out her hand, and when I took it, she squeezed tightly.

"Unfortunately, it's not going to work that way. This war…it hasn't even gotten started, Bella. Masen tells me they're planning an invasion of mainland Europe, but they still have no idea when that'll occur. Bella, I'm a mess of fear and nerves every day, wondering what Masen is doing over there and knowing that it'll probably get worse before it gets better. But I _can't_ let those fears hold me down, Bella, especially not now with the baby. And you can't either."

OOOOOOOOOO

The following morning, Esme helped me finish packing.

"Please be careful over there, Sweetheart. I know you're a smart, young girl, but you're still a young girl, and I hate to think of you so far away."

While I found her concerns baseless, as most young women of eighteen find their elders' concerns for their well-being baseless, they also warmed me.

"I'll be careful," I assured her with a placating smile. Then closing my last bag, I drew in a deep breath and looked around the room - Edward's room - to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

"Well, I suppose that's it," I sighed.

We carried my bags downstairs where we loaded them into the car, and as I shut the trunk and looked up, my eyes fell on the large and magnificent evergreen, where the tire swing swayed back and forth all alone in the breeze.

Since my return to Forks, I'd avoided the magnificent evergreen as well as the river, knowing that they'd dredge up a mountain of bittersweet memories. They were the places where I'd spent my best and lowest moments.

But now, before I left, I felt a need to…connect with it all once more – even if it was by myself.

"I think I'll take a walk, maybe to the river and the bridge. I'll be back to say goodbye in a short while," I smiled.

"Don't wander around for too long," Esme warned. "I don't want you driving alone in the dark later on. Besides, Carlisle is busy with patients, Rose is indisposed, I can't find my way to the river, and there's no one else around to save you should you happen to fall in!"

I laughed aloud at the reminder of my constant mishaps by the river.

"I won't be too long."

It was a misty morning, as most mornings had been since I'd arrived. Making my way through the overgrown thicket of green grass and brown bracken, in between the achingly familiar tall trees and stout shrubbery, I felt the tension of the past few days ease, if not completely fade away, and I wondered why I'd stayed away from my sweet woods.

Bluebirds chirped from the canopy of branches above me. The muted sun cast soothing, warm shadows wherever it managed to penetrate through moss and evergreen branches. When I was close enough to hear the tranquil rush of the river's white water up ahead, I smiled to myself and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of pine and undergrowth.

I ended up staying much longer than I'd meant to, leaning against the railing to the short footbridge – a place that transported me back in time. Sandy, no longer the agile puppy she'd once been, sat on her hind legs next to me, but when she looked up, I was sure that what I saw in her big, brown eyes was longing and excitement, and I was positive that it was out of a desire to relive her glory days - those days when she'd soar into the river like a fish and jump out like a beautiful, hairy mermaid.

"One more dip, Sandy, for old time's sake?" I grinned, and while I may not have been Jasper, when she barked, I was sure I knew what that meant. She wagged her tail vigorously when she saw me removing my shoes and peeling off my nylons, all the while running around in a tight circle and barking into the woods.

"Just a quick dip," I told her, pulling out my blouse from my skirt and starting on the buttons. She'd grown really anxious by then, running back and forth along the short bridge as if she couldn't decide whether she wanted to stay or go.

"Alright then," I smirked, pulling off my shirt and pushing down my skirt and letting it all pool by my feet. The breeze caressed my bare arms and thighs, making me shiver. I stepped out of the garments at my feet while Sandy whimpered and skipped away from me. "If you're not up for it, you don't have to go in," I assured her, reaching for the hem of my slip, "but I'm-"

"Should I let you finish stripping, or should I be a gentleman and make my presence known?"

I gasped wildly and looked up.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song # 47**_**: I Don't Want to Walk Without You**_** (1942) by Helen Forrest &amp; The Harry James Orchestra:**

_**All our friends keep knocking at the door  
They've asked me out a hundred times or more  
But all I say is, "Leave me in the gloom"  
And here I stay within my lonely room  
'Cause **_**_I don't want to walk without you, Baby_**

**Twittter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a good weekend. See you guys soon. :)**


	47. Chapter 46 - By the River

**A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely thoughts, guys. I didn't get a chance to get back to many of you after the last chapter, but I've read and appreciated and enjoyed them all. :)**

**Hmm…so who exactly was that by the river? Let's find out, shall we?**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 46 – By the River**

* * *

"Well, who was it, Nana? Don't leave us in suspense; tell us quickly! Wait, was it Rich Boy? It was, wasn't it? What the hell was he doing there?"

Despite her request that I immediately divulge a name, Olivia is making it pretty hard to get a word in edgewise.

Her twin manages to cut her off. "Olivia, chill! Of course it wasn't Rich Boy! Haven't you been paying attention? Rich Boy was busy hooking up with the airheaded doppelganger that summer. No, it was obviously Jasper coming to apologize for being such an A-hole."

"You're the airhead if you think it was Jasper," Olivia retorts. "Weren't _you_ paying attention? Jasper was too pissed off at the world to apologize to anyone. No," she shakes her blond head of hair, "it was definitely Rich Boy."

"It was Jasper," Skye contradicts.

"Rich Boy!"

"Jasper!"

"Rich Boy!"

"Jasper!"

"Girls!" Isabella scolds. "Will you both be quiet so I- I mean _we_ can find out who the heck it was!"

The girls press their pretty, purple lips together, crossing their arms across their chests. "Nana?" they prompt in unison.

"Alright, alright," I chuckle. "Now where exactly were we?"

##########

Oh, yes.

The river.

Well, I gasped wildly and looked up, and while Sandy whined and whimpered at the sight before us, I simply stood there with my brow furrowed, reciting some of those expletives which Rose had so eloquently spewed while pushing Little Masen out of a hole about a tenth the size of his head.

"You can't possibly be here." I shook my head emphatically, cursing what I was sure was either an overactive imagination or an overworked brain exhausted from nights of waking to a screaming newborn.

"Can't I? I better be here after everything I just went through to find you. You, Miss Dwyer," he grinned crookedly, "are already supposed to be settled into your dormitory, and your dorm mother is none too happy with you, by the way; although she didn't seem too happy with me either when I showed up at the dorm this morning."

"Edward…Edward, you can't be here."

A deep crease formed between his brows. He removed his officer's cap with one hand and loosened the knot in his tie with the other. At that point, Sandy gave up the fight with her limited self-control and ran full-speed towards him, jumping on his legs. Edward reached out and slid his hand through her mane, yet the entire time, his eyes remained on me.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Bella? Bella, is this al-"

Like Sandy before me, I took off running, but this time, Edward took a few, long strides towards me. When we met at the end of the footbridge, I jumped into his strong arms.

"Edward!" I cried, wrapping myself around him, cradling his hips with my legs and kissing him wildly everywhere and anywhere my lips made purchase: soft mouth, stubbly cheeks, angular jaw, and a deliciously-Edward-scented neck.

"It _is_ you! You're here! You're really here! I thought I was imagining it!"

His ensuing laughter was tinged with a note of relief as he kissed me with the same fervor with which I kissed him.

"Is that what it was? You scared the hell out of me," he breathed. "You looked…" – here he trailed off, nudging my lips open with his tongue. "_Ahh_," he sighed when we came up for air. "You looked upset about seeing me," he frowned.

"I wasn't upset about seeing you. I was upset at what I thought was my malicious imagination," I grinned, cradling his beautiful face when he set me down. "I _am_ confused, though. How are you here?"

He drew in a deep, weary breath, and only then did I notice the dark circles of exhaustion around his brilliant, evergreen eyes.

"They worked us to the bone those last few weeks before the commissioning - had us fly twelve, fifteen hours a day all over the mid states and the Gulf. Then, the night before the commissioning, we received our next orders: Depart Turner Army Airfield with a seven day delay en route to point of embarkation."

"_Seven_ day delay?" I echoed excitedly.

He nodded. "I tried phoning here to let you know, but the operator couldn't get the call through."

"It's been raining awfully hard."

"Figures," he smirked. "The day of the commissioning, I just wanted to make it to the train station on time. If I would've missed that early afternoon train, there wouldn't have been another one 'til the next day, and that would've ruined my plans. Fortunately, the U.S. Army takes roll call and conducts dismissals in alphabetical order."

"So all this time," I mused aloud, "these past few days of not hearing a word from you, it was because you were on your way over here?"

"I had to try. I had to at least try to see you one last time before I left."

I slid my hands around his neck and held him tight, still in need of physical reassurance that I wasn't having some sort of magical, Olympic Forest-induced dream. "Edward," I breathed shakily, and when he pressed his mouth to mine again, I knew I wasn't merely dreaming. He kissed me slowly, savoring my lips and lightly cradling my jaw in his hand. "I've been so worried," I confessed.

His hands skimmed down to my hips, and he wrapped long fingers around them. "I'm so sorry I worried you, Sweetheart. When I arrived in Seattle this morning, I went straight to your dorm, only to find that you weren't there. By then, I was pretty anxious, so I hitched my way over here, and then when I arrived at the house," he chuckled, "you weren't there either!"

"Oh God," I moaned, grinning. "Wait, you've been to the house?"

"Only for about five minutes, and I think I may have shaved a few years off of poor Mama's lifespan with the fright I gave her when I ran in."

"Poor Esme!" I covered my mouth.

"Gave her a hug and a kiss that I hope made up for it," he grinned impishly, "and then I asked for your whereabouts. See, at that point I knew you were around because of the red, shiny beauty parked in front."

We laughed together, our voices echoing off of the tree trunks and then carried away amidst the river's rush. I felt as light as air - as buoyant as a water bubble. I do believe I may have floated and taken flight had he not been holding on to me so tightly.

"Edward…Edward, I can't believe you're here."

"I know, Sweetheart," he smiled gently, caressing my face with his thumb. "I can't believe it either, but…I'm not here for long. I've got to leave in the morning."

With those words, my previously soaring heart took a sudden nosedive. "Tomorrow morning? Already? But why so quickly? You said you had a seven-day pass."

"Yes, Bella, and I've already used two and a half of those days, and I'm going to need all the rest to get to our embarkation point before I get declared AWOL."

As unimaginably grateful as I'd been for the seven-day pass just a moment ago, now it seemed grossly insufficient.

"Well, where's your embarkation point?"

Edward took my hand and knit our fingers together, gazing at my ring before kissing it lightly. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Of course not. Edward?"

"I can't tell you, Bella." He shook his head, closing his eyes for one long moment. "It's been deemed classified information since we'll be flying our aircraft out from there. Once I leave tomorrow, I won't be able to contact you until we've arrived at our overseas destination, and I won't even know where that is - not precisely - until we arrive at the embarkation point."

"You're returning to the east coast though, aren't you? That's why you need to leave so soon."

He nodded slowly.

"Then you're headed to Europe," I whispered.

He held my gaze and nodded once more. "I've been assigned to the Eighth Air Force. Once I'm overseas, I'll be able to write you and tell you more, but until then…"

"Until then…this is all we have."

My chest constricted tightly with the sudden realization, with the dreadful clarity that as difficult as the past few months had been, it had all been a walk in the clouds compared to what was now on the clear, imminent horizon.

All along, we'd been merely playing at this war.

"I was just about to leave Forks," I murmured. "I've stayed too long as it is. My classes begin the day after tomorrow."

"I know."

When he said nothing else, I swallowed thickly and smiled. "Alright then. We should get back to the house so that you can spend some time with your parents. They'll form a search party soon, now that they know you're here." I tried to take a step forward, but Edward held me back.

"What?"

"Bella…" - his eyes spoke a thousand words then: love, longing, apology, regret - "I wish...as…unimaginably tempting as you look right now, I think it'd be best if you put your clothing back on before we return to the house." His eyes raked me from head to toe, and he grinned crookedly.

It took me a few moments to remember that up until Edward had made his presence known, I'd been readying myself for a swim.

"Oh." I snorted and looked down at my silk slip. "I'd been planning on a dip."

His arms encircled my waist, and he pulled me in close once more.

"A dip, huh?" He crooked a brow. "Been skinny-dipping much while I've been gone?"

"No," I chuckled.

Oh, I knew full well what he was trying to do by pretending that everything was as it should be: that we were simply two run-of-the-mill, everyday lovers alone in the middle of the woods, and that in a few hours, he wouldn't be truly, inarguably, unequivocally off to war.

"Not at all. In fact, this is my first time back to the river since last summer."

His hands ran up and down my spine and against the fine, slinky material of my slip. When they dipped to my hips, he gave me a slow, salacious grin. "This feels wonderful on you. Maybe I should've waited a few seconds before I spoke up. I would've enjoyed watching you remove it."

"Well, you've lost your chance," I responded dryly, resting my hands on his lapels while I stared at the silver wings secured to either one - silver wings which would, in a few hours, be taking him away from me. "We've been here for too long now, and any second, your parents will burst through those trees in search of you."

He chuckled heartily and ceased his caresses, moving his hands back up to my waist.

"One day," he whispered, "I'm going to bring you back here, and you're going to finish taking that off, and we'll go skinny-dipping together."

"Do you promise?" I asked, bringing my eyes up to meet his.

He kissed me tenderly, punctuating each kiss with another. "My woodland nymph," he grinned softly. "We'll be back. Now let's get your clothes and get back to the house."

"Okay," I smiled faintly. "Okay."

It wasn't until years later that I realized he hadn't actually promised.

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle and Esme were indeed pacing up and down the porch when we arrived back at the house. Even Rose and the baby were out there on the porch swing.

There were more hugs and tears, of course, and then we all gathered around the front room where we shared and rejoiced at the return of the youngest son, and where my handsome second lieutenant held his newborn nephew for the first time. And as I sat next to him, sidled up as close to his thigh as I could get without actually mounting his lap - because that's where the baby was - we caught up with each other as much as possible in the limited amount of time available.

"I can't believe Masen has one of these," he whispered reverently, gently pulling one of Little Masen's miniature fingers with the tips of his thumb and forefinger. "Do you think he knows by now?"

Rose shook her head. "I doubt the letter would've reached him yet."

"It's strange that we all know he's a father before he does," Edward murmured.

"Yes, it is," Carlisle agreed with a sigh. "Do you really need to leave so soon, Son?"

"Yeah, Pop. I have to be on the train out of Seattle early tomorrow to make sure I make it to my embarkation point on time."

Carlisle expelled a resigned sigh. "I suppose I'll drive you to the train station in the morning."

"Pop, Mama…" - Edward's gaze fell on me - "I'll be leaving this afternoon…with Bella."

My eyes grew wide, and I was suddenly surrounded by a silence punctuated only by the sound of Little Masen smacking his tiny lips together - an indication of his growing hunger. All the while, Edward's eyes remained on me, gauging my reaction, I assume. And though I was admittedly as surprised as everyone else, if he'd decided he'd be leaving with me, then there was no way in hell I was going to object.

Was it selfish of me? Oh, of course it was. Being a mother and a grandmother now, I can much better imagine Carlisle and Esme's emotions in those last few moments before their son went off to war; even then, I knew they longed for him as much as I did - yet not for one second did I consider suggesting that he stay.

Very selfish, indeed, but there you go. Love _is_ a selfish emotion – especially in youth. You're generous enough with the one you love, but you want to keep that loved one near _you_ as much as possible and the hell with everyone else.

"I think it's time for the baby's feeding," Rose announced, getting to her feet. Edward stood with her and, placing a kiss on Little Masen's forehead, returned him to his mother, whereupon Rose placed her own kiss on her brother-in-law's forehead.

"If you happen to see your brother at any point…just tell him that his son and I love him with all our hearts." Her voice broke. "Take care of yourself, okay? We'll all be praying for you."

Edward hugged her tightly. "You take care of yourself too, Rose. And take care of my nephew."

I stood as well, happy and thrilled beyond words - yet embarrassed beyond my abilities to meet anyone's eye. I figured the best thing for me to do at that point would be to remove myself from the scene for a short while and give Edward and his parents at least some time alone.

"I…I think I'll go upstairs and help Rose."

"Alright, Sweetheart," Esme said gently. "Let me know if either of you need anything."

"Thank you, Esme," I nodded, almost bursting into grateful tears right then and there for her small yet generous assurance that she didn't absolutely hate me for taking her son away when their time together was already so limited.

And then, I did meet her eyes, and the tender smile she bestowed upon me spoke of understanding, more than some, I suppose, could ever understand about the selfishness of young love.

OOOOOOOOOO

Now, back then, there were plenty of places for a young soldier on leave to lay his head for the night while en route. The USO set up shop in many hotels and clubs where both officers and enlisted could stop by for anything from rooms for as low as fifty cents for one evening, to free stationary, to game rooms and showers, to low cost or free meals. Even most hotels where the USO wasn't a presence had special rates for our troops.

But don't imagine that because Esme and Carlisle knew that there were all these places available to Edward for the evening that there wasn't concern for what the sleeping arrangements would be that night.

As Little Masen hungrily fed from Rose's full, swollen breast, I folded some of his latest wash: diapers, blankets, onesies and such. Then I arranged his bottles and diaper pins over Rose's dresser in an orderly fashion. Finally, I took a seat next to Rose.

"What do you think they're talking about down there?"

Rose smiled at her son's rhythmic sucking.

"Oh, they're probably telling Edward the same things they would've told Masen had they had a few hours with him before he shipped out. They did write him a letter for me to give him when I went to see him off, but obviously, it's not the same."

"Do you think they hate me?"

Rose glanced up at me. "Bella, had you returned to Seattle earlier, the way you were supposed to, they probably wouldn't even have seen him. What's more, if it weren't for you, Edward would've most likely enlisted a long time ago. Esme and Carlisle will never hate you. As a matter of fact, they're probably telling him to be very_...careful_ with you this evening." She crooked a meaningful brow.

I shook my head, my face burning as I reached out and gently stroked Little Masen's fuzzy, dark head. "Edward…he has a lot of…he won't…I mean, even when we were alone in Savannah, he didn't…we didn't…not really," I stuttered.

She smiled at me. "That was a few months ago, Bella. After tomorrow, you both will most likely not see each other for…a while," she sighed. "You just completed your cycle, didn't you?"

"Yes," I answered reflexively, meeting her eyes. "Why?"

"When was your last cycle before that?"

I frowned thoughtfully. "Exactly one month before."

"Are you regular?"

"Yes, Rose," I nodded. "What are all these questions?"

"You should be safe, then," she whispered.

"Rose, Edward…last summer, he said he wanted to do things right, that he'd want us to wait until we were married."

"That was last summer, Bella. Plenty of things have changed since then. You should be safe this time of the month," - she reached for my hand and gently squeezed it - "but please, if you can manage to think at all while in the throes of passion," she grinned mischievously, "have him pull it out before he releases."

"Rose!" I wouldn't have been surprised had the heat that rose to my face set the room ablaze.

She laughed heartily, startling the baby, whose hands jerked out to his sides.

"Oh, my little darling, I'm so sorry," she whispered, stroking his head until he returned to his rhythmic suckling. Then she looked up at me, lifting a rueful brow. "Isabella Dwyer, first, that man that I just saw down there is not the same boy that left this house almost a year ago. He's grown up, and the way that he looks at you and holds you…well, it's grown up as well. Regardless of Edward's pre-war scruples, please heed my advice. Second, after having your hands and face in the thick of things just a few days ago, are you really going to go red in the face now when I talk about the human anatomy?"

She made me laugh. "No. No, I suppose I won't."

OOOOOOOOOO

The three of them were huddled in a hug when I finally worked up the nerve to make my way downstairs. Not wanting to interrupt, I paused in the middle of the staircase, watching them. Esme's words were inaudible, but Edward kept reassuring her, stroking her hair, making promises.

"And you remember it's not only yourself you've got to think of," Carlisle added, his pitch and volume much more pronounced. "You've got a young woman here waiting for you."

"Yeah, Pop. Believe me, I know that," Edward nodded. Then, sensing my presence, he tilted his head upwards, smiling when he caught sight of me, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. He turned back to his parents and kissed the top of his mother's head before patting his father's back.

Then he drew in a deep breath and withdrew from them, turning his eyes to me once more.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Only if you are."

Outside, Esme and Carlisle both hugged me tight, assuring me that this was my home, that I'd always be welcome. Then I climbed into the driver's side of the car and left Edward to say his farewells. Soon, he threw his big duffel bag into the backseat and climbed in next to me, long legs bending at the knees as he settled himself in for the ride.

He turned to me with a teasing grin, angling his entire body my way while the peaking sun sparkled brilliantly in his bright, evergreen eyes.

"I've been waiting months. Now show me how you handle this beauty."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song # 48: **_**The Sunshine of Your Smile**_** (1942) by Frank Sinatra:**

_**Dear face that holds no sweeter smile for me,  
Were you not mine, how dark the world would be  
I know no light above that could replace  
Love's radiant sunshine in your dear face.**_

*****A little bit of military history for those who are interested: ******

**Before we get to the next few chapters, here's a little history regarding the transition from U.S. Air Corps to U.S. Army Air Forces (USAAF):**

**The U.S. Army Air Forces (USAAF) came into being on June 20, 1941, six months before Pearl Harbor. Acting under authority of the War Powers Act, Secretary of War Harry Stimson approved a major War Department reorganization. Army Air Forces and Army Ground Forces were made co-equal commands. Before this, the Army Air Corps worked to support the ground forces of the U.S. Army. As the USAAF, Air Corps was absorbed by this new arm and became an independent operation.**

**The USAAF expanded rapidly. As the wartime build-up proceeded, more commands were added - Flying Training Command, Technical Training Command, Ferrying Command, and the numbered air forces. Each numbered air force was assigned a separate duty. The Eighth Air Force, later known as "The Mighty Eighth," was initially activated on Feb. 1, 1942, and assigned to combat in the European Theater of Operations. Eighth Air Force moved to the Pacific Theater in the final months of the war.**

**Since Edward is now part of the Mighty Eighth, we'll be learning much more about this bomber group.**

**To this day, many of those men who served with the USAAF during World War II have a strong sentimental attachment to the Air Corps. Though technically members of the USAAF, many of them still consider(ed) themselves Air Corps men through and through.**

**The USAAF existed until Congress established the United States Air Force (USAF) in 1947. The new U.S. Air Force absorbed personnel from the Air Corps and from other Army branches who had been serving in the USAAF.**

*****End of History Lesson*****

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend, guys!**


	48. Chapter 47 - Promises

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts. I'm in the process of getting back to reviews for the last chapter, but if I haven't gotten to you yet, please know that I love and appreciate all your thoughts.**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes, though due to my constant last-minute tweaking, any and all mistakes are MINE.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer, the rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 47 - Promises**

Edward and I made one stop in town before heading for Seattle. In their short time with him, Carlisle and Esme had managed to relay the story of what had happened when I'd gone to visit Jasper.

"He's hurting, Edward." I angled myself sideways to face him after I'd parked the car on the dirt and gravel road next to the mill where Jasper worked. "Just remember that he needs a friend more than a scolding."

"I understand he needs a friend. That's what we've all been trying to be. That's what _you_ were trying to be, and he was disrespectful to you," Edward replied.

"Alright, but don't go in there looking like that."

"Looking like what?"

"Like you're ready to punch him."

He laughed, and his irate features softened. "Alright, alright." He sighed. "Look, Jasper has been my buddy since we were kids. I know how to talk to him. I'll sort him out, and then we'll be on our way." He stroked my cheek with his thumb. "Okay?"

"Okay. I'll be waiting."

Twenty minutes later, I'd pushed the seat back and situated my legs carefully over the dashboard, my skirt secured snugly around my calves. As I allowed my eyes to wander idly around the small town of Forks, I realized how much had changed since my first trek to that part of the country. Stanley's Mercantile had once been the only real store in a two-block radius marking the town center. Now, though all manner of businesses lined the streets, it was still the local mercantile at the heart of it all.

At that moment, Jessica Stanley and Mike Newton were out on the front porch of the store, wrapped around each other, mouths pressed together frenziedly while hands groped wildly, with little regard to their very public display. Eventually, she pulled away and reached up to straighten first his tan, army-issued tie, then his side cap. She then threw a hand over her mouth and ran inside, the tinkling of the door's bell ringing behind her. Mike stared at the closed door for a few minutes before reaching down for his duffle bag, throwing it over his shoulder, and moping down the porch steps.

Fifteen minutes later, Edward reappeared in the distance: a tall, handsome figure angrily patting down his dark uniform and sending wood and dust particles floating in the air around him. Nostrils flaring and square jaw clenched tight, his fist connected with the inside of his officer's cap more than once while he grumbled furious, inaudible words to himself.

He hopped over the door back into the car, face flushed, eyes glaring straight ahead.

"What happened?"

His head shook from side to side, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's a goddamn…goddamn drunk bastard, and unless he sets that bottle down…let's just go, Bella."

And though my heart ached at the thought of leaving Jasper in so much pain, I began to understand what Rose had said the other day. This war hadn't even gotten started.

OOOOOOOOOO

Halfway to Seattle, Edward more than readily took over the rest of the drive. With the Forks clouds behind us, we rode with the top down, and I pretty much ogled him the entire way. One strong hand wrapped around the wheel while the other arm pulled me in close to his side. Dark shades covered his eyes, and a smirk played across his lips. The cool breeze caressed our faces and attempted to blow away my headscarf, and I held on to it tightly, grinning like a fool.

Inside the Seattle city-limits, I almost pitied the girls who'd catch sight of Edward. A young, handsome officer at the wheel of a red convertible? It's a miracle more of them didn't actually faint dead away.

Now, Seattle was a very important war hub where air-raid drills and brown-outs had quickly become a part of life. With Seattle being a shipyard town, the war had given the downtown area a great boon. Everywhere were soldiers and troops coming and going – usually headed to the Pacific Theatre of the war. Seattle was also headquarters to what had been a relatively small entity just a couple of years earlier: The Boeing Company. Now, Boeing was the manufacturer of the famous B-17, as well as other bombers being used in the war, and as such, it had increased its workforce by 1,200 percent.

Not too far from the shipyards was the University of Washington, and not too far from there, on a quiet, tree-lined side street just north of the university was the building where I'd be living. It consisted of small apartments for single women, most of us students attending the University. The apartment on the first floor was occupied by the "Dormitory Mother," Mrs. Conway, who was in charge of our well-being – also known as our virtue – while in her apartments.

Edward parked the car in a small lot to the side of the building.

"According to the information I was given at the train station's Serviceman's Lounge, there's an officer's club not too far from here. I'll help you settle in, and then we can go get me checked in before dinner. What do you think?"

"That sounds fine," I smiled.

Inside the dormitory, Mrs. Conway greeted us - a tall, dark-haired and imposing woman in her early fifties or so who recognized Edward from his earlier visit and pursed her lips at him suspiciously. She showed us around my new apartment, all the while reciting – in a tone with no little threat, mind you – the rules of the land.

"And _fiancé_ or not, Lieutenant Cullen," she added brusquely, "I will not tolerate _any_ man staying over. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Ma'am," Edward nodded, cap in hand.

"Edward will be leaving Seattle tomorrow morning anyway," I added.

"Hmph," she huffed, nonplussed. "That's all well and fine, but keep in mind that our weekend curfew is eleven o'clock, and your parents _will_ be notified, Miss Dwyer, if you violate it."

"Yes, Ma'am," I acknowledged.

OOOOOOOOOO

Having set everything down and taken a quick look around – with Mrs. Conway breathing down our necks the entire time – we set out to find the officer's club.

Edward burst out laughing as soon as we were out of Mrs. Conway's narrowed, suspicious sight. "Jesus, she's worse than some of the CO's I've had!"

"It's going to be a long few years. And here I thought I was finally going to be free and on my own."

Edward laughed and stopping in the middle of the street, swung me around to face him. "My woodland nymph," he smiled softly, "just aching to break free." His finger brushed across my lips. "I wish…I wish I could be here with you during your first taste of freedom."

"Me too," I nodded.

Leaving the car behind, we caught a cab to the officer's club, and while Edward went to check-in, I waited in the separate, women's lounge.

He appeared ten minutes later, his bag still at his side.

"It's full," he shrugged. "Seems a few troop trains came in this morning, and the town's busy."

"So what are we going to do?" I asked, though even as I did so, I'd already solved the problem with a solution that consisted of sneaking Edward past Mrs. Conway – despite all of her earlier warnings.

"They gave me the address to a hotel which apparently puts up Air Force men flying out bombers from the Boeing Plant. It's not too far from here."

"Uhm…okay."

We took a cable car to _The Sorrento_ \- a seven-story, luxury hotel with terra-cotta façades and broad, overhanging, rooftop gazebos. The hotel was, at the time, renowned for its top-floor restaurant and entertainment facilities with majestic views of Elliot Bay and the Olympic Mountains. Inside the rather dim, octagonal-shaped lobby there was a large, green brick-faced fireplace surrounded by dark brown Italian leather recliners.

As Edward and I walked in, the tuxedoed gentleman behind the concierge desk was assisting a couple who didn't look much older than Edward and me, the man dressed in a white, naval uniform and the girl…excited and happy next to him.

"Let me walk you to one of those chairs, and then I'll-"

"Edward." I swallowed thickly. "I…

He smiled and tilted his head sideways, patiently waiting.

"I…"

"What is it, Sweetheart?" he prompted when I still couldn't get the words out.

My heart hammered painfully in my chest. "I…" I moved in closer to him, so close I had to tilt up my head to hold his gaze. "Maybe I shouldn't return to Mrs. Conway's today."

His brow furrowed.

"What I mean is…" I reached up and fingered the wings on his officer's jacket before forcing my eyes back to his. "I want to stay here…with you."

He locked me in his gaze, his jaw squared, green eyes dark. "They won't let you stay with me, Bella."

"They will if…" - I cleared the nerves out of my throat – "if we say we're married."

For what felt like an eternity, Edward said nothing as his eyes bored deeply into mine.

"Bella, don't think you have to do this just because I'm going away. I'm going to marry you when I come back; I swear that to you. And then we'll do things right, and-"

I gently covered his mouth with two fingers. "Shh. Shh. Edward, do you want to make love to me?"

His eyes sparkled brilliantly, like two, majestic evergreens in the middle of a sun-kissed forest, and his breathless answer tumbled out of his mouth almost helplessly.

"More than you can ever imagine, but I can wait-"

"_I_ can't."

I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Edward, I'll never love anyone as I love you, and you've sworn that you'll never love anyone as you love me."

"I won't, Bella. I won't," he breathed vehemently.

"And we're engaged now," I reminded him. "I _need_ this, Edward." I took his hand and kissed the tips of his fingers, all the time keeping my eyes on his. "I know that we'll marry upon your return, but while you're away, I need the memory of your touch, the memory of your strong body wrapped around mine, with nothing else in between us. I need it to keep me warm on all the cold nights while you're over there. I need it so that I can concentrate in school. And on your cold nights over there, I want you to close your eyes and remember my body under yours and know that I'm here waiting for you, body and soul, completely yours in every way a woman can belong to a man."

"Bella…" he uttered in a strangled voice, closing his eyes.

"I need you to know that I'm thinking of your warmth at exactly the same moment that you think of mine." I cradled his jaw in one hand, and he leaned into my touch. "I want to imagine that the memory of my body keeps you not only warm, but somehow _safe_. Please give this to me, Edward. _Please_."

When he reopened his eyes, there was a warning in them. "Bella, you heard Mrs. Conway. If you don't return to your dorm tonight, your stepfather _will_ be informed."

I snorted. "Edward, right now, that's truly the least of my concerns. And if you're concerned about making a baby, Rose told me that this should be my safe time. She helped me count my cycle and-"

This time, he was the one to silence me. "Shh...shh." He pressed his mouth to mine, lips firm yet unmoving, and all my hope left me in a cruel rush.

Edward pretend that I was his wife?

Never.

In the past, he'd always had a good reason, a rational basis for why it wasn't the right time, for why we should wait, and adding such a bold-faced lie to the entire scheme now...

Yet when he pulled away and met my gaze, I gasped quietly.

"Shall we go register, _Mrs. Cullen_?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Thinking back to it now, I realize that registering as husband and wife in that hotel on that warm, end-of-August afternoon wasn't nearly as rare or as scandalous an occurrence as I naively believed it to be. We were in the middle of a war for God sakes, and Edward and I weren't the only sweethearts on the eve of a long, frightening separation.

Afterwards, we went up to our room hand in hand, red-faced yet chuckling and stealing glances at one another like two misbehaved children who'd just stolen the entire cookie jar, never mind one pathetic cookie.

I remember the room clearly: it opened up into a sitting area with one long, tan suede sofa and two matching recliners on either side. There was an oak coffee centered in the middle. Sienna-toned pictures of the Olympic Mountains hugged the walls, and just beyond were two white cabana-style doors which opened up into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed dressed in white linens and a quilted white bedspread. Two wooden floor-lamps illuminated the room, and another recliner sat on the opposite side of the bed. There was a huge faux palm tree on the other side of the recliner.

Slowly and evenly, I walked to the bedroom's wide window, which had a view of Elliott Bay with its busy shipyards and sparkling water. Edward's warm breath washed over my shoulder before his hands circled my waist. I lay my hands over his.

"Not a bad view, huh? Though I suppose it'd be better if they didn't have to keep all the harbor lights off."

I couldn't be sure, but it almost sounded as if his voice was shaking. Then again, it may have just been my distorted perception since _I_ was shaking so badly.

"It's a beautiful view," I managed to murmur.

We stood there silently for a few moments, and then Edward leaned into my neck, brushing his lips back and forth between my nape and my shoulder while his hands crept further down, stroking my thighs, fingering the hem of my skirt. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Bella…" he murmured, "do you want to freshen up before…?"

"Dinner!" I blurted, twisting myself around in his arms and looking up at him. "We have to go eat dinner!"

"Dinner?" He raised a brow. "You're hungry now?"

"Famished. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

His eyes narrowed. Then he smirked and released a small chuckle. "Alright, Sweetheart. I'll go wait in the sitting room while you freshen up, and then…we'll go have dinner," he shrugged. "Take your time."

I nodded and watched him turn and walk out slowly, looking so tall and regal in his uniform. When he pulled the door closed behind him, I let go of the breath that I'd been holding and sat down heavily on the bed, dropping my head and fisting my hair in my hands.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," I moaned quietly.

It wasn't that I didn't want to sleep with Edward. It was just that now that I knew it was definitely going to happen, that there was no Mother, or Papa Phil or Mrs. Lewis or Mrs. Conway to stop us, I was…terrified beyond all comprehension.

Taking a few minutes to calm my racing heart, pulse, and shaking hands, I stood before the full-length mirror in the room and cringed at the sight before me. There was no way that I could allow Edward to see me in that state. Doing so would be disastrous, I was sure. So I fanned myself furiously, slowly breathing in and out through narrowed lips and trying to stave off the panic swelling in my heart. I straightened out my pastel blue skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles in my silk blouse, and then I removed the pins from my hair, finger-brushing the knots that had formed during our drive from Forks.

With no other excuse to delay me, I made my way to the sitting room.

Edward was waiting on the sofa, head in his hands. He stood up immediately when he heard me approach, and though his ensuing grin was somewhat uneasy, the love and sincerity shining in his eyes filled me with shame over being so stupid.

He twisted his cap between his fingers while his eyes took me in appreciatively.

"You look…beautiful."

"I'm wearing the same clothing I've been wearing all day," I shrugged. "I have no luggage."

"Oh, that's right," he frowned. "Had we known…well, no matter. I've got an extra toothbrush you can have later and a shirt you can change into for-" he cleared his throat and took a couple of quick steps towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my lips softly. "The hotel manager said that the restaurant upstairs is nice and quiet, and it's also one of the few places in the city still serving steak. You want to go see if we get lucky? Uh, I mean with the steak – if we get lucky with the steak." His face flamed.

I chuckled and kissed his jaw, somehow soothed by the thought that maybe…just maybe…Edward might be as nervous as I was. "Yes, let's see if we get lucky."

OOOOOOOOOO

As it turned out, the hotel manager was a liar.

First, while the restaurant upstairs was quite nice, it wasn't nice and quiet. Every air force officer and enlisted personnel in Seattle appeared to be in attendance. Edward gave the Maitre d' his name, and we were directed to take in the lovely view by the floor-to-ceiling windows while we waited just a few minutes.

As directed, we admired the way the sun was beginning to set behind the bay – though to prevent enemy U-boats from finding their way to shore, port towns were required to cut out all lights at night. Even cars driving by had to turn off their headlights. Therefore, once the sun went down, the lovely view was no more.

Now as enlisted men would come and go from the restaurant, they'd look up and salute Edward, and he'd very solemnly raise a razor-sharp hand to his forehead in reply. After about the fifth or so of such salutes, I met his eyes and grinned, to which he shrugged sheepishly.

Once we were finally seated, we discovered that the hotel manager had also lied about the availability of steak on the menu - though what difference that would have made to that meal is debatable. Edward and I both dined on chicken breasts which we both barely touched. A glass of wine each did help to ease us, and soon we were truly enjoying ourselves.

Although always in the back of my mind, and I'm sure now, in the back of his, was his imminent departure.

Afterwards, on the same floor but down the long corridor, an officer's club opened with a decent band, and Edward and I relived our time in Savannah, dancing and swinging like the experts we were not. We met a few other couples, whose names I honestly can't recall. I was surprised at how easily the lie that I was his wife fell from Edward's mouth – although the couple of beers he enjoyed could've had something to do with it.

When I excused myself for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, I returned to find Edward in deep discussion with a couple of other Air Force officers. As he saw me approaching, his frown turned into a smile which didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Are you ready to go back to the room?" he asked.

"Yes."

We returned to our room, and when Edward closed the door behind us, he pushed me against it and cradled my face in his hands, crashing his mouth to mine.

I know now what he'd been discussing with those officers – air force statistics which were just beginning to be calculated. I also know that it was way more than the beers or the excitement of the evening or even the forbidden nature of what we were doing that spurred us on. There was a desperation to the way we clung to each other, to the way I fisted his nape and the way our mouths and tongues met and moved hungrily. We were on a precipice, urgently pushing away darker thoughts, the reality before us, the horrible possibilities and the truth that everything after this night would be new and unknown and…terrifying.

There were no words spoken between us as he worked on the buttons of my blouse, pulling it out from inside my skirt and then tossing it to the side. My hands trembled so much when I tried to unfasten his jacket that he had to help me. Quickly, it joined my blouse on the floor. Between the both of us we managed to unknot his tie, and after his shirt and undershirt followed, I stared at him wide-eyed, my palms reverently resting against his hardened chest. I reached up and played with the two silver identification tags resting against him, and then my palms skimmed down to his stomach, making him hiss and suck in a sharp breath.

"You're so perfect," I murmured, amazed by every ridge and groove enhanced by months of drills and training.

"You're the perfect one, Bella," he breathed, slowly capturing my mouth again. "You don't see it, but…" his hand curved around my chemise-covered breast, molding around it, and I sighed into his mouth. "I wouldn't want these any bigger or smaller. Look at how perfectly they fit. You've always been perfect for me, like you were…made for me."

"I was. I was made for you."

He lifted me into his arms then, and I wrapped my legs around him as he led us towards the bedroom. With all the city lights out and the black-out curtains shut tight, the room was pitch black, and so after situating me over the soft, quilted bedspread, Edward moved away to turn on a lamp. When he returned, he hovered carefully over me, his silver chain hanging between us while I stroked his bare, strong shoulders.

"My handsome Lieutenant," I smiled.

He chuckled. "My beautiful woodland nymph."

"You've always called me that," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in closer.

"Because it's what you are. What you've always been since the day I pulled you out of the river."

"You _yanked_ me out," I smirked, "by my hair, I might add."

He snickered sheepishly, his cheeks tinging red. "I'm sorry, but your hair looked like floating reeds."

I laughed aloud, arching against him. "Either way, you were my hero from that day on. You'll always be my hero. My heart will always be true and loyal to you."

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and he held my gaze, caressing my cheek with the tips of his fingers. When they neared my mouth, I turned so that I could kiss every tip one by one.

"You have my heart, Edward," I whispered. "You've always had it. Now take my body. It's yours."

He kissed me again, softly this time, his hands exploring my body, my breasts, my ribs and my thighs while I moaned and writhed under him. The moans turned to whimpers, and then the whimpers…to sobs.

Edward met my eyes, his own eyes glassy and pained, and when he dropped over me and wrapped me in his body, we both released months of pent up emotion and fear.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he rested his forehead on mine. "I'm afraid," he whispered, his soul bared to me so that I could see how truly terrified he was. "I'm not afraid of going over there, I swear that to you, or of being in a sky littered with thousands of other men hell-bent on…I'm afraid of losing you, of being forced into an oblivion where I can't hold you…kiss you…call you mine. I'm afraid of an eternity that doesn't include you. It's all I'm afraid of."

I wrapped myself around him as tightly as possible, wishing with all my might that I could somehow give physical form to my love and transform it into a shield. Because if I could do that, then my shield would be impenetrable.

"I will _always_ be yours, no matter what. You just have to come back to me because you hold my heart in your hands, Edward. It can't function for long without you. I told you once: the day yours stops, mine won't be far behind."

A tear slid down his cheek, and he shook his head angrily. "God damn it, don't say that. Please. I…I never wanted this for you."

"Just promise you'll come back to me. Promise."

He swallowed and dropped his eyes to my chest. "Bella, I…I don't know if I can make that-"

"No! No, look at me," I hissed, forcing his agonized gaze back to mine. "You look at me, and you _swear_ it, god damn it! You pulled me out of that river, now you swear that no matter what," I sobbed, "no matter what happens over there, even if you have to crawl back on your god damn hands and knees, you'll come back to me. Swear it!"

"Bella-"

"Swear it!"

His nostrils flared, soft pink lips quivering, and I remember the way the birthmark on the left side of his jaw quivered when he struggled to choke back his tears.

He clenched his jaw then, and a burning determination filled his features, darkening his evergreen eyes to black, filling them with a resolve I'd never seen before.

"I swear I'll come back to you," he gritted, chest heaving, "even if I have to crawl back on my hands and knees, we _will_ be together again, Bella. I _swear_ that to you."

He pressed his lips to mine then, and our tears mingled and seeped into our mouths. When he fell over the bed, he pulled me against him, cradling me in his arms while I buried my face into his strong, hard chest, and I prayed. I prayed that it would be strong enough. I pleaded that the heart which beat so furiously within would continue doing so.

And then I fell asleep listening to the perfect rhythm of his heart.

OOOOOOOOOO

The _Union Builder's_ sharp whistle echoed through the air, the sound of its steam engine roaring like a lion in a concrete jungle.

Having spent a significant amount of our short relationship in one train station or another, the whistle's tune was nothing new to Edward and me. It preceded us running towards one another excitedly - or parting, finger by agonizing finger.

Now we were back, but we weren't alone. All around us, men and women in one uniform or another shed tears and held on for one last time, making promises and plans, some which would be fulfilled, some which were destined to float away in the wind. Promises and plans which would finally be forgotten years, decades down the line or which would be remembered with dying breaths.

Edward and I had already made our promises the night before. Now, we had an unspoken agreement, an…instinct which forbade us from uttering those promises here where we were surrounded by so many promises which wouldn't survive.

The whistle blew its second warning.

"I'll write you as soon as I arrive overseas, but don't get too worried if you don't hear from me for a few weeks."

"I won't," I lied bravely, smoothing down the slight wrinkles in his jacket. He had more pants and shirts, but only one jacket, and I remember wishing we'd been more careful with it the previous evening.

"And I'll write to you too, every day, and I'll hold on to the letters until I know where to send them. You'll have a load of letters once I have an address."

He grinned, holding up the pile of letters I'd given him – the ones I'd written over the last couple of weeks. "I won't complain. You'll do great in school, Bella. You're the smartest person I've ever known, and by the time I see you again…" he swallowed and cleared his throat, "by the time I see you again…"

I raised myself on the tips of my toes and covered his mouth with mine, tasting his sweet lips, committing the warmth of his body and the heat of his touch to memory.

"I love you, Lieutenant Cullen. And I _will_ be waiting for you. Come back to me soon."

"I love you too, Isabella Dwyer. Please, please take care of yourself. I'll come back to you as soon as I can."

He pulled me into his arms just as the whistle blew its final warning.

Charlie told me once when I was a little girl that I had to be brave – that I had to be strong.

I would be brave. I would be strong.

Edward walked backwards onto the train, and as it pulled away on that cool, last day of August morning, I smiled and waved him away, one of many soldiers off to war, and I…one of many young women left behind.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So…he's off to war.**

**There will be another posting on Monday.**

**AoI Playlist Song # 49: **_**I'm Trav'lin' Light**_** (1942) by Paul Whiteman &amp; His Orchestra:**

_**I'm travellin' light  
**__**Because my man has gone  
**__**And from now on  
**__**I'm travellin' light  
**__**He said, "Goodbye"  
**__**And took my heart away  
**__**So from today  
**__**I'm travellin' light**__**  
**_

_**No one to see  
**__**I'm free as the breeze  
**__**No one but me  
**__**And my memories  
**__**Some lucky night  
**__**He may come back again  
**__**But until then  
**__**I'm travellin' light**__**  
**_

*****It's been a busy summer, and I've got a busy few weeks ahead. Saturday is my daughter's Sweet Sixteen, and then after the 19****th****, my family and I will be away for a couple of weeks, first to the Grand Canyon (Yay! I can cross one item off my bucket list!) and then on our yearly cruise. **

**There will be one more update on Monday, and I will TRY to get another one out before I go away, but I can't make any promises. Like Edward said, don't get worried if you don't hear from me for a few weeks. ;)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a good weekend. :)**


	49. Chapter 48 - The Meaning of Love

**A/N: Sigh. So I totally take the blame. Many of you were confused/upset with the way the last chapter ended. I deliberated for two days on whether to split the last chapter up, and in the end, I did because it was long, and as you guys know, my chapters are already long enough.**

**As I said in my previous A/N, I was going to post this on Monday, but since there were so many questions (and readers wanting to kill me, LOL) after the last chapter, I figured I'd just post it today. **

**Read, and we can talk a bit more at the end. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes - though I still tinker afterwards so all remaining mistakes are mine.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest: mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 48 – The Meaning of Love**

##########

Heavy, wary lids have given in to the weight of memories.

I've shuttered my eyes at some point, closed them to the true sights before me as I relive every moment, every touch in the here and now. The quick pitter patter of Edward's heart fills my ears, his scent hovers like the sweetest honey under my nose, his touch burns my skin.

It's not until a quiet sob invades my recollections that I'm brought back to a world where the smallest machines keep us perpetually in touch and satellites in the sky trace our every move.

When I reopen my eyes, my twin great-granddaughters are gazing up at me with matching sets of red-rimmed, blue eyes. Isabella has stopped pushing the swing; the young hands which I at first imagined were Edward's, gripping my shoulders, are really hers.

"Oh Nana…" Her voice breaks.

I smile and cover her hand with mine. "Shh. It's alright, Sweetheart. It was all so long ago."

"So you…you didn't make love that night," Isabella breathes.

"Making love…" I sigh, "making love is so much more than the simple, physical joining of two bodies. Making love is joining two souls, and the copper-haired soldier and I…well, he and I made the sweetest love that night, with every touch…with every smile."

My mind wanders again while I leave them to their thoughts and to ponder the truth of what making love really means…

##########

_I woke a little while later, still nestled within Edward's arms, my lips brushing his heart. As I lifted my head, I met Edward's open eyes, sparkling brilliantly by the lamplight. _

"_You're awake," I whispered._

"_I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the train," he grinned. "I'm not wasting one second now when I could be watching you sleep…or looking into those beautiful, golden eyes." Slowly, he brought his mouth to mine, stroking my tongue with his before skimming his moist lips down to my neck and across my shoulder._

_I pulled away. _

"_Make love to me."_

_With a quiet smile, Edward nodded, returning his mouth to mine. For a long while, we just kissed. But they were reverent kisses. His lips tasted mine and mine tasted his in pure, unadulterated worship. So absorbed was I by these kisses that I failed to feel him pulling down the zipper to my skirt until it was being pushed down past my hips, past my knees and then pooled around my ankles. Both sets of feet managed to push it all the way off the bed. He wrapped his hands around my waist, mouth to mouth, and through the thin silk of my chemise, I felt the heat of his hands seeping into my very bones. _

_It took courage to lift myself to my knees then, despite how much I knew Edward loved me. Holding his gaze, my fingers curled around the hem of my slip, and I lifted it off and threw it aside._

_Edward's bare chest heaved, yet to his credit, his eyes attempted to remain on mine for a few seconds before they helplessly trailed to my skin-toned brassiere and then lower to my matching panties. He exhaled a heavy breath through narrowed lips while I did my best not to squirm, not to use my arms to cover myself under his intense gaze because more than anything, I wanted him to have this. I wanted him to close his eyes at night, wherever he'd be, and picture me this way: loving, brave, and open for him._

_So instead of panicking at the fire burning in his eyes, instead of shyly dropping my own eyes the way every atom in my body begged me to, I slowly situated myself over the bed with my legs folded to the side of me - like one of those pin-up girls from the magazines that Alice and I used to sneak out of Edward and Masen's rooms when they were younger. Then I reached up and loosened the pins out of my hair, shaking it out so that it fell in long waves around my shoulders. _

_I met his eyes from under my lashes, with what I hoped was a confident smile. _

"_Jesus…Bella…" he uttered hoarsely. "Pick up your arm…" – he reached up behind him, his arm bent at an angle – "and put it behind your head and just hold it like this."_

_Biting my lip, I did as he instructed, and as uncomfortable and shy as I may have felt, I didn't flinch or cringe under his inspection. I kept my legs to the side and lifted my arm behind my head, pushing my hips out. __**This**__ was the way I wanted him to think of me, not as a frightened little girl ashamed of her body. _

"_Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly right. Perfect. Oh God." _

_I would say he enjoyed it._

"_Now it's your turn," I said shakily because despite all my efforts, I'd reached the limits of my valor. Before my mind could protest, I leaned forward and unbuckled Edward's belt. I could feel his breath on me as I started on the fly of his pants. Hands shaking, he helped me along and snapped open the buttons. Then he stood at the foot of the bed and pushed them off. _

_Despite the times and my limited knowledge of a man's naked form, I couldn't help but admire him. Though I'd never seen him in such a state of undress, I knew that Edward had always been toned. It had been plain through his shirts, especially whenever we went swimming in the river, and the thin material would stick to his chest. _

_Yet it wasn't hard to see the changes that months of exercise and training had produced: strong and fit, every muscle clearly outlined and defined, broad shoulders golden from the sun, arms and legs corded with sinewy veins, and a taught, unyielding stomach. _

_And just as I'd sat there and posed for him, allowed him to take me in, to memorize me for when he needed the impression in his mind, he did the same. _

"_You're a beautiful man, Edward," I breathed, my fingers lightly stroking his abs, tracing the sharp line that disappeared lower - to where a rather large bulge pointed straight at me. _

_He stepped forward again, leaning over and gently pushing me onto the bed, hovering. His eyes searched mine for one long moment, and then he pressed his body against mine and kissed me. Reaching behind my back, he unclasped my bra, pulling it off first one shoulder, then the other and throwing it off to the side. The entire time, his mouth remained on mine, hands now molding around my breasts. When he rolled my nipples between his fingers, I whimpered._

"_Kiss them like you did in Savannah."_

_His warm mouth skimmed down to my neck and collarbone before I felt it wrap around my breast. Fisting his hair, I gasped and arched my back as he trailed it to the other one. Anxious and needy for something more - though I wasn't even sure what that more may be - I squirmed against him, and when I brushed against the hardness between his legs, we both groaned. His hips began thrusting against me, his mouth wandering between my breasts and my mouth._

"_We can stop here," he panted, breath ragged and eyes dark and frenzied. "We don't have to take this any further, Sweetheart. We can stop and just do what we did in Savannah."_

_I shook my head, cradling his cheek. "Make me yours. Please."_

_Breathing deeply, he reached down, and I held my breath and his gaze as my panties slid down my hips, heart pounding as he reached down and pushed off his own underwear._

_Curiosity made me look down between us, and a sharp breath made its escape. _

_My first impression was that…it was much bigger than I'd expected such a thing to be - long and thick, head swollen, lined with the same sort of veins that protruded from Edward's arms and legs. _

_An abrupt image of Little Masen's head squeezing its way out of Rose popped into my mind. I cringed._

_When I finally managed to tear my gaze away and look back up at Edward, he was watching me warily._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing's wrong, it's just…are you sure it'll fit?" _

"_Yes," he smiled shakily. "It'll fit."_

_He rested his weight on his forearms and wrapped his hands around the nape of my neck, gently nudging my legs open with his knee. The tip brushed against my entrance, and my body reflexively stiffened._

"_Relax, Sweetheart," Edward breathed. _

_I nodded quickly as I felt the tip push against me._

"_Wait!" I placed a palm against Edward's chest. "Are you sure? It looks…really big, Edward, and I don't think I'm that big in there."_

"_It'll fit," he whispered breathlessly. "I promise."_

_Once again, he pushed the tip in, and I squeezed my eyes shut._

_But then…nothing happened. _

_Edward sighed, and I felt him pull away._

_I opened my eyes. "What's wrong?"_

"_You're very tense, Sweetheart. We don't have to do this," he smiled faintly. "It's alright."_

"_No! No, please don't stop! Don't stop. I'm just a bit nervous. I'll loosen up and stay still. I promise."_

_Edward chuckled. "Bella, I'm no expert at this, but I don't think I'd __**want**__ you to stay still." _

"_Don't stop," I pleaded, raining kisses all over his face. "I want this. I swear I do. It's just a little bit of nerves. That's got to be normal, right?"_

"_You're right. You're right. I won't stop," he relented after a heartbeat, "but try to relax and…loosen up in there a little bit, okay?" _

_I had no idea how I was supposed to go about doing that, but I nodded regardless. _

_This time, when he pressed his mouth to mine, his kisses were urgent, his tongue dancing frenziedly with mine. Yet all I could think of was what was resting against my leg: heavy, waiting and burning through my skin. He shifted and tried to push it in once more._

_My reflexes took over yet again. _

_Hot tears swam behind my closed lids. I held my breath, knowing that Edward would never force it and risk hurting me. It wasn't his way. He'd pull away and remind me once more that it was okay, that we didn't __**have**__ to do this._

"_Sweetheart, you're too tense, and you're not letting me in." _

"_I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I murmured miserably._

"_Shh. Don't apologize."_

_Edward shifted himself yet again, resting just to the side of my entrance where I could feel it pulsating against me, throbbing with a life of its own. _

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

"_Shhh. Shhh, baby, don't. Don't."_

_He kissed me again, slow and softly this time, playing with my hair, wrapping the strands between his fingers, losing his hands in my scalp. Meanwhile, his other hand roamed up and down my body, lightly skimming my breasts and my thighs but never quite touching them. His palm merely ghosted against my backside._

"_Edward…"_

_Desire gathered strength inside me, like a glowing warmth needing more kindle. _

"_Please…"_

_When he finally fondled my breasts, I groaned in gratitude. _

"_Kiss them," I instructed._

_His tongue replaced his fingers, and my back arched off of the bed while soft sounds of pleasure escaped from between my lips. His hand roamed lower. By the time I felt his fingers slide between my thighs, I couldn't even find it in me to be embarrassed._

"_Ohh." _

_Slowly, one finger explored deeper, circling until he reached just inside my entrance and found that little spot that had always made me jump when I'd accidentally nudged against it. _

"_Ohhh."_

_My legs fell open. When he slid his finger inside of me, I was sure I'd died and gone to heaven. Never had something felt so perfect, so wonderful, so wonderfully perfect. Perfect. Wonderful. Perfect. Yes, yes, perfect. Yes. _

"_**You're**__ perfect, Bella," Edward breathed, and only then did I realize I'd been saying it aloud._

_Slowly, Edward's finger slid in and out of me. "Edward…please…please don't stop...Oh God…"_

"_I won't stop, Sweetheart," he murmured. _

_I reached up and fisted my hair. Then I tried to fist his hair but it was too short so I fisted the blankets and the pillows. Finally, I reached down and fisted the hand Edward had between my legs and pushed his finger in deeper. _

"_Ohhhh." _

_My muscles tightened, quivering, clenching around Edward's hand and finger while he moved them quicker, rhythmically. Like a piano. He was the piano, and I was the music. _

_But that was merely a vague thought, an abstract concept floating around somewhere in my head because something was coiled deep inside of me, tightening, gathering strength and momentum like a storm while the pleasure built to levels impossible to maintain. Something had to give because I was sure that if it didn't, I would die._

_But what a way to go._

"_Oh! Edward! Edward!"_

"_Oh God, Sweetheart. You look so beautiful. You're so tight in there...so tight."_

_His thumb pressed against that little piece of skin on top, and my hips jerked off the bed. And when Edward pushed his finger in all the way, the coil snapped, and my eyes popped open._

"_Oh! Oh God! Edward! Ohhh! Edward!"_

"_Shh…" Edward murmured. "Shh, it's okay, Sweetheart. It's okay."_

_Over and over, I breathed his name while the waves of intensity washed over me and while Edward whispered his reassurances. It's okay, he told me. He loved me. He'd always love me._

_The wave receded and I was cast ashore, bewildered and totally open and exposed. But before I could even think of feeling embarrassed, Edward shifted over me once more._

"_I think that means you're ready." _

_What he meant, I had no idea. My brain hadn't recovered yet, and my heart palpitated erratically in my chest. Dazed and confused, I could only manage to anchor myself to Edward's shoulders and trust in him for the rest._

_He quickly adjusted his position, and pushed himself in where his finger had just been. _

_What I remember the most about that first moment was the strange, stretching sensation. Then something abruptly seemed to rip inside of me._

"_Oh!" I gasped, but this time, not from pleasure. _

"_I'm sorry, Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Edward breathed, and though every muscle in my body seemed to tighten again, this time, Edward didn't pull out. Instead, he groaned long and hard and pushed in deeper. _

"_Oh Jesus," he gasped._

_Then, he started moving over me. _

_I held my breath, closing my eyes against the discomfort. It wasn't an acute pain as I'd feared it would be, more like…a strange fullness. When he withdrew slightly, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was done, only to realize he just meant to push it right back in and stretch me even further. His breaths were heavy and hard, inhaling with every withdrawal, grunting with every thrust._

_And despite everything, he was beautiful. _

_I cradled his cheek and smiled._

"_Oh Jesus, Bella. Jesus," he breathed raggedly, kissing me open mouthed, his tongue moving erratically against mine. "I had no idea…no idea. No idea."_

_I gazed in wonder at the wonder in his own face, the deep lines of concentration, the expression similar to the one in Savannah which I'd mistaken for pain. Stroking his cheek softly, I began rolling my hips with his. More than anything, I wanted to give him this – this part of me to hold on to while he was thousands of miles away, fighting…risking his life._

"_Are you okay?" he asked, beads of moisture gathering along his forehead, which I wiped away._

"_I'm fine," I reassured him. "I'm just fine. Keep making love to me, Edward."_

_With his eyes locked on mine, he moved over me, and I set every single grunt and groan to memory, the deep furrow of his brow, the warmth of his breath. I hadn't even realized when the discomfort faded and left in its wake two young bodies meeting and retracting in a love so pure that there could be no discomfort. Soon, that coiling sensation once more began to take hold, building, growing. Edward grinded against me more insistently, and I…I met every single one of his thrusts with my own._

"_Edward…"_

"_Oh Bella…"_

"_Edward…" I threw my head back, writhing, while somewhere in the deepest recesses Rose's words rang out…something about telling him to pull it out before- _

_Edward thrust so hard that I cried out, reaching...reaching for that perfection…_

_But not quite finding it before he pulled himself out quickly and fell on top of my body._

_Sweaty and exhausted, his chest heaved over mine, and though I could barely breathe, I reveled in the fact that I was holding him this way, that we'd finally shared this connection. My hands played with his hair while I kissed his damp forehead and smiled, holding on tight because after tonight, I wouldn't be able to. _

_And I felt his racing heart slow, slow, slow, and then resume its beautiful, normal rhythm._

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**There are THREE songs for this chapter, LOL. The first is a modern song, actually from Breaking Dawn, and it's the song I always hear in my head when Edward and Bella first make love, and I think it's particularly appropriate for this story because they're both just so innocent:**

**Turning Page (2011) by Sleeping At Last:**

_**I've waited a hundred years**__**  
**__**But I'd wait a million more for you**__**  
**__**Nothing prepared me for**__**  
**__**What the privilege of being yours would do**_

_**If I had only felt the warmth within your touch  
**__**If I had only seen how you smile when you blush  
**__**Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough  
**__**Well I would have known  
**__**What I was living for all along  
**__**What I've been living for**_

_**Your love is my turning page**__**  
**__**Where only the sweetest words remain**__**  
**__**Every kiss is a cursive line**__**  
**__**Every touch is a redefining phrase**_

_**I surrender who I've been for who you are**__**  
**__**For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart**__**  
**__**If I had only felt how it feels to be yours**__**  
**__**Well I would have known**__**  
**__**What I've been living for all along**__**  
**__**What I've been living for**_

**Next is a song suggested to me by Thunnababy, and though like the previous song, it's from a later time period, I thought it would be wonderful here: **

_**The Shadow of Your Smile**_** (1966) by Tony Bennett:**

_**The shadow of your smile, when you are gone,**__**  
**__**Will color all my dreams and light the dawn.**__**  
**__**Look into my eyes and you will see,**__**  
**__**All the lovely things your are to me**_

**Last but not least, one of my all-time favorite songs from the WWII period:**

_**I'll Be Seeing You**_** was published in 1938 for the Broadway musical, **_**Right This Way**_**, but because of its emotional power, it became very popular during WWII as an anthem for those serving overseas. Over the years, it's been covered by many wonderful singers, but during the war, most notably by Billie Holiday, Jo Stafford, Jimmy Durante and Frank Sinatra.**

_**I'll be seeing you  
In all the old familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces  
All day through**_

_**In that small cafe  
The park across the way  
The children's carousel  
The chestnut trees, the wishing well**_

_**I'll be seeing you  
In every lovely summer's day  
In everything that's light and gay  
I'll always think of you that way**_

_**I'll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you**_

**Alright, Guys, like I said, this was supposed to be Monday's post, so there will be no post on Monday. If I can manage to get one more chapter done next week, I'll post later in the week. If not, it'll have to wait until after vacation! Sorry and thanks for sticking around!**

**Have a great weekend!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	50. Chapter 49 - Somewhere in England

**A/N: It's been a long time, my lovelies, I know, and I attribute the delay to a combination of summer vacations, sweet sixteens, hectic work schedules, new school years, etc. Basically, RL gets in the way sometimes. Anyway, I'd like to get back on track with regular updates. We shall see how that works out. :)**

**The update below is pretty long and will hopefully make up for the delay. Please note the dates when reading the letters, and remember that letters weren't always received in the order in which they were sent. (Ah, the beauty of our communications system pre instant email).**

**We can talk a bit more about this update at the end of the chapter, if you're so inclined.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I always tinker to the very last, so as some of you already do, direct all the hate to me).**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 49 – Somewhere in England**

* * *

_**England**_

_**September 20, 1942**_

_My beautiful Bella,_

_After forty-eight hours in England, I've finally gotten a chance to write you._

_First, I want to wish you a happy birthday, sweetheart. I know I'm horribly, horribly late. Will it make any difference if I tell you that on your birthday, I was up in the air over the Atlantic, surrounded by dense clouds and fog and wishing you were next to me, bringing the sunshine with you the way you always did those summers when we were kids? _

_Bella, I feel like the most undeserving fellow right now. I hope your eighteenth birthday was a good day. I hope the typical Seattle fog gave way to a rare morning sun. I hope the Washington clouds parted long enough to allow the stars to shine. And I hope that you can forgive me for not being a part of any of it. _

_I want to apologize for taking so long to get in touch with you. Please believe me when I say that it couldn't be helped. I've been aching to write to you and to find out how you've been these past few weeks._

_Never mind writing, Bella, I've been aching to hold you, to kiss you, but most of all, to reassure you of my love and respect. I'm afraid that in the light of day and with the passage of some time, you may be regretting what we shared on our last night together. It kills me to think that maybe you weren't ready. That your decision was made under pressure, influenced by events that I should've never allowed to influence you. _

_I should've made sure, Bella. I shouldn't have allowed my baser instincts and my own fears and wants to rule me. I did things so backwards, completely forgetting not only the proper way in which I've always been taught to do things, but more importantly, the proper way that you __**deserve**__ for me to go about things. _

_Bella, I've never told you this, but sometimes, my dreams take me to a place where you're already my wife, a place where this war doesn't exist, and little ones scamper between us with your shining, golden eyes and your beautiful smile. _

_But sweetheart, there are so many things you want and deserve before that, and I'm worried that, despite our precautions, I may have left you with a needless burden. I'll never forgive myself if my selfishness has not only ruined all your plans but left you with something huge to handle all on your own. That fear keeps me awake late into the night, Bella. _

_Unfortunately, I'm all the way over here now, and you're all the way over there, and I'll have to wait to hear from you to find out what's going on. I can only guess at how much trouble you must've been in with both Mrs. Conway AND Philip. _

_What was I thinking, Bella? How could I leave you to handle all that on your own? _

_Now will you think me an even bigger louse if I confess that despite all of this, despite how much trouble I may have caused you in SO many ways, despite how worried I am, the memories we made that night wrap around me every evening and burn me with the most wonderful heat imaginable? It's so cold out here, Bella, yet remembering that night makes it so easy to forget the chill in the air. When I shiver in my bunk, it's not from the temperature. It's from remembering how warm you were, how soft, how purely and perfectly just…all mine. _

_I'm such a rat._

_But sweetheart, please know this: if I have left you in, well, in trouble, I'll be there for you as soon as possible. I'll be the man you need me to be. I'll be your husband. We'll be a family._

_Anyway, in the hopes that you don't completely hate me right now (which I pray every night isn't the case), I'll let you know some of what's been going on with me since I left you in Washington. Due to necessity, I can't be as detailed as I'd like to be. As officers, we're left to censor ourselves when writing, so I'll have to watch what I say while at the same time attempting to make this letter as interesting as possible for you. _

_Let me just say that if I could tell you in this letter exactly where I headed after I left you in Washington, the exact location where my crew and I were directed to go to pick up our brand new, shiny B-17F and prepare for the transatlantic flight, you'd see exactly what kind of sense of humor God must have. That's as much as I can say about that. _

_A few days later, on September 13 to be exact (aka my sweetheart's birthday), we were directed to take off shortly after midnight. The flight was pretty uneventful, and we arrived at base about five hours later._

_Bella, I can't describe how strange it felt, knowing that I was out of the good old U.S. of A. I know you've traveled quite a bit, but my visit to you in New York a couple of years ago was the furthest I'd ever been from home. _

_Anyhow, all I can really say about this second stop is that it was definitely the coldest place I've ever been. After twenty-four hours of R&amp;R and double checking our aircraft's equipment, we were briefed and sent on the next leg of our trip. _

_This next flight lasted about nine hours, and again without boring you with too much detail, I'll say that apparently, I hadn't paid enough attention in geography class. When we arrived at our next destination on September 15, I was expecting ice and snow but instead was met with a rocky terrain full of hardy plants and vegetation. Once more, I'll leave your clever brain to puzzle that one._

_After another twenty-four hours rest, we took off again. This time, we had a five and a half hour flight to England, which is where I am now, at a replacement depot on an RAF airfield that's been handed over to the Eighth. We're not to say exactly where it is because we'll complete the last of our flight training here, and then we'll be assigned to a permanent airbase. I just hope that the sleeping accommodations at our permanent base are better than the oval-shaped, corrugated steel huts that my fellow officers and I have had to sleep in for the past couple of nights. If it wasn't for my memories and dreams of you, I would've just about frozen to death already. _

_As for the countryside, well, it's just like in the movies with the thick fog and dense mist. If my heart didn't constantly remind me that I was thousands of miles from you, I'd almost think I was back in Washington. We threw around a baseball yesterday during a short break, and I swear to you, I couldn't even see the ball coming towards me the fog was so heavy._

_We've also spent some time in the past couple of days being familiarized with British phrases and customs. Apparently, a truck here is called a lorry, a toilet is a loo, a trunk is called a boot, and gasoline is petrol. We've been warned not to take offense if a British tommy tells us we're taking the piss or if he asks us for a fag; furthermore, we've been drilled not to offend our hosts by turning down a "cuppa", no matter how watered down and tasteless it may be since after all, they've been dealing with rationing here since '39. _

_Yet it's the currency here that confounds me the most. Their "pennies" are about the size of a silver dollar. Twelve of them make up a shilling, which is usually called a "bob?" Twenty shillings (or bobs) make a pound. I think. There are things called half crowns, but there are no whole crowns. They've got farthings and hay'pennies and paper currency that looks like it belongs on a Monopoly board. _

_Well, that's more or less what I've been up to. Pretty dull as you can see. Like I said, we're awaiting orders for our permanent assignment, and as soon as we get those, we'll be heading out of here. But you can write me as soon as you get this letter since they're telling us that from here on in, our mail will be forwarded to us. _

_Love you so very much, Bella. Please take care of yourself. I know you'll do wonderfully in school this semester. Say hi to old Mr. Swanson from English Lit if you happen to have him on your schedule. Send me lots of pictures of yourself if you're willing, and I'm going to write to Mama now to ask her to send me pictures of that nephew of mine. _

_Continue living your life, sweetheart. I'll be home soon. Until then, I'll be seeing you in my dreams. _

_My true and loyal heart is still, and will always be, _

_Yours,_

_Lt. Edward Anthony Cullen_

_P.S. – I've been told to try to use that new v-mail paper for my letters as it's quicker and takes up less room on the transports, but being as I knew this letter would be long, I wrote you regular airmail. As long as you write me, I don't particularly care the method you choose._

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**October 12, 1942**_

_My dear, darling Edward,_

_I received your letter this afternoon, and it's truly the best thing that's happened to me in over six weeks. These past few weeks without hearing from you, without knowing how or where you've been, have been torture. But now I can draw in a full breath, which hasn't happened since the morning you left Seattle. My heart is racing. My hands shake while I write this. My mind is working so fast, full of so many questions and thoughts for you that I'm afraid you should prepare yourself for pages and pages here! _

_Now that you've set me at ease by letting me know that you're okay, I'd like to set you at ease as well and early on in this letter by assuring you that I'm well in EVERY possible sense of the word. You have NOTHING to worry about, seeing as you sounded fairly panicked in your letter. Curiously enough, in the days after you left, I wasn't nearly as terrified about the repercussions of our actions as you seem to have been. I wouldn't have seen it as ruining my future, Edward. Rather, as I lay in bed remembering our beautiful night together and contemplating the possible outcomes of that night, I saw that particular outcome as a blessing, a piece of you I would've been given to hold on to while you were so far away from me. If truth be told, when I realized it wasn't to be, I spent the day mourning those possibilities, not jumping for joy. _

_Now that I've hopefully helped you breathe a bit easier, I want to tell you that you've made me laugh with your covert descriptions of the places you've flown to lately! They're like riddles! I think I can guess most, if not all of them, but in the interest of keeping you and the rest of our fly boys safe, I'll keep them to myself for now. One day, after you return to me, I'll tell you what my guesses were, and you can tell me if I was right._

_Edward, I know it's strange, being so far from home. I wish I was there with you. The first time Papa Phil took us to Europe when I was very young, before that madman in Germany came to power, I remember feeling overwhelmed by the differences in language and culture. Mother, of course, entertained herself with the boutiques lining Kensington in London and the __Champs-Élysées in Paris__, but Papa Phil did his best to set me at ease. He explained that differences are what make our world interesting, and he encouraged me to learn about these differences so that I wouldn't feel so frightened of them. It was upon our return from our first trip abroad that he insisted I have a French tutor in addition to the French classes I was receiving in school. Though I still don't see the benefit of my advanced fluency in French, I suppose, all in all, I have enjoyed the learning aspect of it. And who knows? Perhaps someday all that French will come in handy. _

_And I guess that's the best I can say to you, my love. Don't let the differences make you too wary. You'll get the hang of it all, even the currency differences. _

_Edward, I know there's much more going on over there than you'll say in your letters, either by choice or by order, but the papers report on the things you won't mention. The Movietone Newsreels have recently brought us the news about the joint directive between the RAF and the Eighth Bomber Command to split up the bombing missions over France and Germany. The RAF will continue nighttime bombings while the Air Force will fly the daylight bombing missions. The pictures and articles in __**Life**__ Magazine have made it pretty clear that right now, our fly boys are bearing a significant share of the fighting in this war._

_So you see, I do know what's going on over there, Edward. Perhaps not all of it, perhaps not in detail, and perhaps only the parts that the government will allow us to know, but we __**are**__ informed, and I know you're involved in much more than studying British customs, playing baseball or finding ways to stay warm in steel huts. And I do know why you won't write of them, both your personal and mandated reasons. But I know. These past few weeks, I prayed for your safe arrival every morning and night. And now that you've arrived and your training is almost over, I'll pray that you complete your 35 missions as quickly and safely as possible so that you can return to me before my next birthday. _

_Just hold on to your promise to me, Edward, because that's what I'll be holding on to. _

_As for my life here at home, Mrs. Conway issued a warning upon my return the following morning: three strikes and I'm out. She's a big baseball fan - Joe DiMaggio in particular. _

_My love, that was meant to make you laugh, and I truly hope you __**are**__ laughing! Though come to think of it, I've probably worried you even more now and have you picturing me wandering the streets, homeless, alone and in distress. But Edward, without you here, where am I going to go other than classes and such? Any weekend or holiday trips will occur with The Great Philip Dwyer's complete knowledge and stamp of approval, and so all should be fine. _

_As busy as he is with the railroads, Papa Phil hasn't mentioned my one night disappearance at all in any of our hasty communications. Though I'm not stupid enough to think he doesn't know. But even if he did ever mention it, I wouldn't apologize when it was by far the most special, the most wonderful, and the most LOVING night of my life._

_And that's why I don't want to read about how much you regret it, Edward. It was precious to me, more than just a physical act, more than some base instinct, as you described it. At least, it was for me. I don't want your apologies. If the memory of that night isn't as cherished by you as it is by me, then I must've done something wrong, and I'm the one who's truly sorry. It was supposed to be a beautiful memory for you, something for you to hold onto while over there. And no, it wasn't guilt or misplaced fear that led me to give myself to you. It was something I wanted to give you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life._

_When you return, I'll try to do better. But to me, at least, that night will always be a gift. That's why I couldn't see anything resulting from it as a burden like you called it in your letter. Don't feel guilty. No matter what, I'll continue looking on that night as the most wonderful experience I'VE ever had._

_My birthday came and went. It was a fairly good day, though without you here, turning eighteen held little novelty. There were clouds, and I don't recall any stars. It fell on a Sunday. Your mom came down from Forks to see me, and we had brunch at a very nice restaurant, though with all the rationing, the menus in most restaurants are becoming very similar in their limited choices. We had a dish called 'meatless lasagna' which was actually pretty tasty, but can you believe that we had potato chips as our side dish since fresh vegetables are becoming scarce? Potato chips as a side dish! What's next?_

_Anyway, Esme gave me a beautiful, hand-knit scarf which I wear every morning, and she brought me news and pictures from Forks. Your nephew is growing fast - fat and healthy and so adorable! He has the sweetest dimples. Rose is doing well, missing Masen, of course. Due to the delicate condition she'd been in this past spring and summer, she hadn't been able to help your mom much with the community victory garden your mom headed, but she's been keeping busy in between feeding and changing baby Masen by helping with the canning and jarring. Your pop is very busy with his practice, as well as with his responsibilities as part of the town's war production council. The council now has the mill running day and night, producing everything from ammunitions boxes to wood trainers for fly boys like you, my love. _

_None of the family has seen or heard from Jasper recently._

_You may be interested to know that I've started a petition to grow a victory garden on campus as well, starting next spring. Your mom has been teaching me how to garden since I started going to Forks as a little girl, so it should be quite easy once we have the school's support._

_Between that project, a couple of bond drives I've headed, and my classes, I'm keeping myself pretty busy. _

_Edward, I'm thoroughly enjoying the college life! It's so different from high school – at least from __**my**__ high school. I feel so free, so independent! There's encouragement to express my opinions, to speak my mind without being scolded or ridiculed. And what's more, most of the faculty as well as the students don't seem to mind that I'm a woman! I've never been surrounded by so much liberal thinking in my life! It would almost be daunting if I hadn't been lucky enough to have you and even Papa Phil always reminding me that I could do whatever I set my mind to._

_Classes are small this semester. So many young men have enlisted, and the boys that remain will either be drafted soon or attempt to defer until they graduate. It's somewhat depressing to look around the classrooms and see so many empty chairs, but the faculty tries to encourage us by saying that the smaller class size is a benefit._

_By the way, the Navy has taken over the west wing of campus, and so we've had to be creative with the remaining space, which is a small price to pay, I think, to help out. In Home Economics, students are being trained to can foods for shipment overseas while I've heard rumors of strange experiments going on in some of the senior chem classes._

_Seattle is so very busy, Edward. It changes almost weekly. Grows. Expands. Everywhere you look there are navy men, army men, air force men. And women as well. The ports are lined with warships coming in and out of harbor alongside bombers, tanks and Red Cross ships waiting for transport._

_Charlie is doing well. He writes me letters asking me about college, about you, giving me the news from Chicago. So many boys are off to war. Do you remember my friend, Brady? He was one of the boys I grew up with in Chicago - one of boys with whom Jacob left for the Navy. Thankfully, he survived the Pearl Harbor attack, but now he's somewhere in the South Pacific. I'm not exactly sure where. And Angela's husband, Ralph, whom we met at Jacob's funeral, was drafted in late March. He's on the U.S.S. Augusta, I believe, in Norfolk, awaiting orders. Charlie says he heard that Ralph met Patton himself earlier this month!_

_As for my mother, I've received exactly three letters from her in my almost two months here in Washington, which is honestly three more than I expected to receive. All three letters move from unsurprisingly shallow remarks on New York society's juiciest gossip to more surprisingly in-depth discussions of the war, like Stalingrad's current siege by the Nazis, or the continued convoy losses to German U-boats in the Atlantic, or the Japanese attempts to retake Henderson Airfield from the Marines in Guadalcanal. These discussions tend to ring more like newspaper articles that have been reproduced verbatim rather than an actual conversation - which is what they are. _

_Naturally, now I ask myself the following question: Is this a sign that Mother is making an attempt to break down the wall between her and me, or is it a sign that she's totally and completely given up and is simply putting in as little thought and effort as possible? I wish you were here to help me puzzle this one out._

_I'll be spending this Thanksgiving, the first Thanksgiving since we entered the war, in Forks with your family next month. Papa Phil, thankfully, has agreed to it since the holiday is too short for me to take the train ride to the Northeast. Alice will be on a five day furlough, and I'm both anxious and somewhat wary of seeing her. I haven't seen her in almost a year, Edward, and I ache for the easy friendship we used to have. Things with Jasper and her are still horrid. He refuses to see her or speak to her, and I can only imagine how much that must hurt. _

_And that's about as much as I have to say about what's going on here at home. _

_I dream of you every night as well, Edward. I realize now that you have some regrets, but that last night we spent together was simply glorious for me. Mrs. Conway tends to keep the temperature low in the building as heating oil is now being rationed as well, and sometimes while I lie in bed at night, I wrap myself tightly in my blankets and pretend that it's your arms around me. If it's quiet enough, and I allow my mind to wander without boundaries, I can still feel your touch, your breath, you…inside me and all around me. I remember the way you woke me the next morning, your warm mouth roaming everywhere, and I shudder in the dark, almost feeling what you made me feel that night…but not quite. Only you can ever make me feel that again, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't physically ache for that sensation. When I wake in the morning, and you're not there, it's like a weight that follows me everywhere, all day, every day. _

_And I know that these aren't things I should be saying over a letter, but they're the truth, and I need you to know that I'll make it special for you next time, my love. I swear that to you. In my mind, I picture all the things I can do to make it better for you next time._

_Keep yourself safe for me, Edward. It makes me happy to know that despite your misgivings, your memories of that night still manage to warm you somewhat on those cold nights. Don't be afraid or ashamed to let them be your blanket, because they're mine as well. I love you, and I'm not sorry for anything, and I'll be waiting for you, Lieutenant Cullen._

_All my heart,_

_Bella Marie Dwyer._

_P.S. – I'm sending this letter by airmail as well, as it's also a long letter. But I'm also sending you a few v-mail notes, which you might receive before this one. _

OOOOOOOOOO

In the days and weeks that followed the first letter I received from Edward, he and I exchanged a dozen or so letters, now a bit more quickly than those initial letters since we were using the government approved and sanctioned v-mail. I put anything and everything to pen and paper, trying as best as I could to shorten the distance between us, to speak as if he were still only a few states away instead of separated from me by a deep dark ocean and worse still, a deadly war. Sometimes our letters crossed in the mail. Sometimes an earlier letter would be delivered after a later one. It was somewhat confusing at times, but we managed. We tried to share as much of our lives as possible: things that made us laugh and sigh and things that made us upset and angry. We gave one another support and comfort during those times when the world seemed to be working against us.

OOOOOOOOOO

_**England**_

_**September 29, 1942**_

_Dearest Bella,_

_I'm writing you another letter while I wait for a response to the letter I wrote you on the 20__th__ of the month. I'm so tired. It's been a long week of crew indoctrination, where we learn how to work with one another. The fellows I'm going to be flying with all seem pretty decent. My co-pilot and I get along well. His name is Shaw. He comes from Texas. He'd originally wanted to pilot a single-engine fighter but didn't make the cut, so he got stuck being my co-pilot instead. He's a good sort of fellow though. Takes it all in stride. _

_Sweetheart, I'm worried that I may have said things in the wrong way in my last letter, the way I sometimes tend to do. If you are in a family way, I'll love you and that baby more than anything in the world. I just don't want to limit you while you've got so many things you still want to do. And I'd hate the idea of you having to go through it all on your own, the way Rose is having to do. I'm just so damn worried that I've messed everything up for you._

_I came across a great, wool blanket a couple of nights ago, purchased in the town next to base. I had to part with some of my new British currency, but it's helping to keep me warm. Though it's still my thoughts of you that do most of the job…_

_**England**_

_**October 2, 1942**_

_Dearest Bella,_

_They showed us a movie today, "The Talk of the Town" with Cary Grant, Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman. It was a good sort of movie, I suppose, with a love triangle at its heart. Cary Grant plays the fellow Jean Arthur is truly in love with even though anyone with two eyes can see that Ronald Colman would probably be better for her. In the end, she goes for Cary Grant, though he was willing to give her up for the better guy. And as I watched the movie, Bella, I tried to imagine whether I'd ever be a big enough guy to be willing to give up the girl to a guy who might be better for her. But I couldn't. I guess I'm just not that selfless – no big surprise._

_Don't fall for anyone else while I'm away, Bella. I know you won't, but…I guess I just had to say it._

_I can't wait to finally hear from you. I'm going stir crazy wondering what's going on. I love you, Bella. Please don't ever forget that. And though I know I'm so damn far away right now, I'm going to try my hardest to get back to you as soon as possible. Please don't give up on me…_

_**England**_

_**October 8, 1942**_

_Dear Bella,_

_I've got great news, sweetheart! I've heard from Masen, and we're going to be on leave in London at the same time this weekend! He's told me where to meet him, and we're going to have an entire weekend to catch up and explore London! We won't be quartered in the same establishment since we're of different ranks, but we can spend the rest of the day together. He's my only brother, Bella, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I've truly missed him…_

_**England**_

_**October 16, 1942**_

_Dear Bella,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days, but the pace has been hectic, and truthfully, I don't think anything from me would've been much fun to read this past week. As I mentioned in my last letter, I was going to meet Masen in London this past weekend._

_We did meet. He looks well, Bella, and you can let Rose and Momma know that when you next see them or write to them. We talked about home and how much we miss everyone. His eyes misted over when we talked about little Masen Junior, and I described him to his father as well as my memory would allow me. He sees the resemblance in the pictures Rosalie has sent. They've got the same forehead, and something in the shape of their mouths and the slant of their eyes that the rest of us don't seem to have, something that's always been just Masen. _

_He's well, Bella; he is. There are just things he told me that God, I wish I could share with you._

_I hate this goddamn war, Bella. I hate Hitler and Mussolini, Tojo and Hirohito. If I could be left alone in a room with them, I swear to you, this war would be over tomorrow. If it wasn't for them, Masen and I would be home right now. I'd be finishing school with you, sweetheart - married to you. If there was a baby inside you, I'd be ecstatic rather than worried. Masen would be home with his wife and son, watching him nurse and learn to smile. Instead, we're both here, and my stupid sister has no goddamn clue what she's getting herself into._

_London is a disaster, Bella. Rubble and ruins everywhere. I'd never seen the city before other than in movies and pictures, and it was so far from what I'd imagined. Of course, I knew of all the raids and bombings and the Blitz a couple of years ago, but knowing in your mind and seeing with your eyes are two very different things. It's hard to watch everyone going about their day to day business while walking by bombed out, crumbling buildings, churches and schools destroyed by a madman and his blind followers. Most of the kids in London have been sent to stay with friends or even strangers in the countryside to protect them from the raids. The Officer's Club where I stayed for three nights is in an area called Piccadilly, and even here you can see the effects of the war in ways that, well, I'd really rather not go into, but it's depressing, Bella. _

_But they're brave, Bella. They're so brave, the English. They smile, and they look at us so gratefully, like we're here to save them, like we're goddamn saviors… _

_**England**_

_**October 19, 1942**_

_Dear Bella,_

_I received TWO v-mail letters from you today, sweetheart, and you have no idea how much they meant to me. I don't know how I survived over a month and a half of not hearing from you. You've brightened my dreary, gloomy day over here. I'm so glad to hear that you're doing well. And yes, I'm relieved to know that EVERYTHING is well, but I really think I messed things up with my inability to express myself properly, the way I usually do. _

_Sweetheart, please know that it's not that I wouldn't want to have a family with you. Bella, I want that more than anything in the world. I just didn't want to burden you with dealing with that all on your own. I want, no, I NEED to be there with you when that time comes, Bella. I need to see your beautiful body changing before my eyes, to see our baby growing inside you. I need to make you my wife first, because you deserve it done that way. I don't want anyone looking at you sideways or whispering behind your back. You're a lady, Bella, and you should always be treated as one. You're my lady. I love you so much, and I only want the best for you. Anyway, you mention that you talk about this a bit more in your regular, airmail letter, so I'll wait to receive that to see what you have to say._

_Bella, I want to apologize for my letter dated the 16__th__. I'd had a bad day, and I wrote things that'll probably just serve to frighten and worry you. I'm so sorry. Please don't worry about me here. I swear to you, my biggest concerns right now truly are staying warm at night and finding a damn decent cup of coffee._

_Things here are proceeding well. We're learning to fly in formation now with the other fortresses in our squadron…_

_**England**_

_**October 24, 1942**_

_Dear Bella:_

_I received a letter from Momma and Pop today. They're doing well. Momma mentions she saw you for your birthday, and that makes me so happy, that you had someone whom I know loves you, on your special day. She also says you'll be spending Thanksgiving in Forks, which also pleases me. I love closing my eyes and picturing all my loved ones together on that day. _

_I don't know how much you will be hearing or when, but today is an important day for the Allies. Not for me, though. Don't worry. While others do their part in this great war, I'm stuck for another few weeks with crew indoctrination and formation before I can finally get up into that damned sky and make a difference. _

_Because for others, Bella, for others, this war is now all too real…_

_**England**_

_**October 29, 1942**_

_My Sweet Bella,_

_I received your airmail letter today. God, how could I have made you think that night we spent together was anything less than glorious, magnificent, perfect, and more than I could've ever imagined it being? Bella, you surpassed every physical AND emotional expectation I could've ever had for what we shared. And I'll try to be as brave as you were in your letter and confess that now that I know what being with you is truly like, I physically ache every single night. Images of being with you that way again flood my mind, and I also spend nights imagining all the different ways I can love you next time. Different ways to make you utter all those beautiful sounds you uttered last time, to say my name so softly and yet so powerfully that I felt its reverberation in my very soul._

_I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry I've made you doubt what that night - what your GIFT meant to me. And again, Bella, I dream of having babies with you. I just thought that right now, it would've been a burden for YOU. That's all I meant. I want you, Bella. I want you as my wife, as the mother of my children, and as my lover. I need you as my everything. That night only proved how perfect you are for me, and I'm sorry if I just can't find the words to express that properly… _

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**October 13, 1942**_

_My dear Edward,_

_Today, I received your v-mail letter dated September 29, only one day after receiving your regular airmail letter dated September 20, 1942. I suppose that v-mail is indeed quicker!_

_Edward, I'm sorry if I've misunderstood things! I thought, well, I was afraid that night hadn't been for you what it was for me and that all you could focus on were the possible repercussions. If I was wrong, then I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. This stupid distance has us misunderstanding one another, but please always know this, Edward: I will NEVER regret anything between us, and I'll love you until I take my last breath. There's no way for either one of us to misinterpret that._

_I'm glad to hear that you get along well with your crew. It's always important to get along well with those you'll be spending a significant amount of time with... _

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**October 16, 1942**_

_My dear Edward,_

_I was so glad to read that you'd be seeing Masen! As I write this response to your letter of October 8, you would already have been to London and seen him. He wrote me a letter as well and also told me that he'd be seeing you during a weekend pass… _

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**October 20, 1942**_

_My dear Edward:_

_I took a test in Biology class today, and I received a perfect hundred, Edward! The highest grade out of everyone in the class! I know how proud things like that make you, so I wanted you to be the first to know. Not even the great Philip Dwyer knows of that yet! (Well, by the time you receive this, he may already know). But the news went to you first, Edward, because I want to share all my firsts with you…_

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**October 25, 1942**_

_My dear Edward,_

_Before I even write anything else, I want you to know how much I love you. Don't ever apologize for sharing your bad days as well as your good days with me. I want them all, Edward. I'm here for you whether you're angry or happy._

_You did sound quite upset in your letter of October 16, beyond just horrified by what you must've seen in London. I did see London in all its glory, years ago when I was very young, and though I've seen it more recently in newsreels, terrorized by German rockets and disfigured by cowardly attacks, in my mind, I still see that glorious city with its towering bridges and magnificent clock. They are brave people though, Edward. What was it that Churchill once said? _

"_We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!" _

_They've been hit hard, Edward, but they haven't been demoralized, and what better way to beat Hitler than to keep our chins up? To go on with our lives and with our days, just as you've asked me to do over here? And I try my best, Edward. For you, I try my best because I want you to be focused on what YOU have to do and not worrying about me. And I think that's what Londoners are probably thinking. They'll go on with their lives and their days as best they can so that their British troops can do what THEY need to do._

_My love, I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but I think I can more or less guess from things Masen is vaguely writing to Rose and things she's called and told me, that something is about to happen. I hate this war too, Edward. I hate that so many people have to live in constant fear and terror. I hate that as much as I pray for time to pass quickly so that you can get back to me, at the same time, I wish I could freeze time so that you can continue in training in perpetuity and never have to_

_I won't finish that sentence because I know it's not what you want to read. It's all so very confusing and horrible._

_I'm praying, Edward. I swear to you, I'm praying…_

##########

"It was Terrorism," Skye whispers.

"What?" Olivia questions.

"The London raids. All those raids. They were the first half of the century's version of terrorism - keeping a people in constant fear. That's all terrorism really is."

We're all silent.

"The more things change…" Isabella murmurs.

"But what was really going on?" Olivia asks. "Why did the copper-haired boy sound so angry in those last couple of letters?"

With a deep breath, I fill my tired old lungs with the cool mountain air surrounding me, and sighing, I do my best to convey the realities of a worldwide war to two beautiful young girls who will hopefully never have to learn those realities first-hand.

"On October 25, 1942, Private Masen Cullen, T/4 Medic with the 39th Regiment of the U.S. Army, left Liverpool, England on a transport bound for Morocco, North Africa."

"North Africa?" Skye questions. "Why was he going to North Africa?"

Isabella is the one to explain.

"Skye, at that point in the war, the Axis and Allies had been fighting in North Africa for a while. Lacking oil as a natural resource, Germany needed the Middle East's oil supplies to continue its fight and expansion, and they planned to go through Egypt and the Suez Canal to get it."

"Yes," I confirm. "And at the same time, the Soviet Union continued its desperate plea to the U.S. and the U.K., asking them to open up a second front to relieve some of the pressure the Soviet troops were under while defending Stalingrad from the Germans. Now while the American commanders were in favor of landing in Occupied Europe as soon as possible, the British believed it was still too early to invade the fortress that was Europe; that the Allies weren't battle-hardened enough for such an invasion."

"So instead, the joint American and British forces were tested in North Africa," Isabella resumes. "The Allies hoped that the Vichy French government-"

"What was the Vichy French government?" Olivia asks.

"The Vichy French was the German puppet government set up in Northern France and French-controlled North Africa after the French occupation in 1940," I explain. "The Allies hoped that their history as a former ally of France would keep the Vichy French from fighting back in the event of a North African invasion. And so on November 8, 1942, Operation Torch, the Allied invasion of Axis-controlled North Africa, was put into effect."

I draw in a deep breath, scanning the green horizon before me. Yet what I see isn't a calm, lush landscape ripe with life and flora, rather it's Rose's terrified, tear-streaked face, holding baby Masen securely in her arms when I arrived in Forks for Thanksgiving that year.

"Masen was now in combat."

Both girls draw in deep, thoughtful breaths.

"And what about the copper-haired boy?" Skye finally murmurs. "What about him?"

"With a few weeks of training still left, he was…as safe as a young man training for battle in enemy skies could be. And he was angry, and anxious for his brother as well as anxious to do his part while he, along with the rest of us, were left to wait…and to pray."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I plan to update again next week, and hopefully soon we can get back to our normal Monday, Thursday updates. :)**

**AOI Playlist Song #43: **_**Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree**_** (1942) by Glenn Miller (as well as The Andrews Sisters and a few other acts.)**

_**I wrote my mother, I wrote my father,**__**  
**__**And now I'm writing you too.**__**  
**__**I'm sure of mother, I'm sure of father,**__**  
**__**and now I want to be sure of you.**__**  
**__**Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,**__**  
**__**anyone else but me, anyone else but me, NO NO NO!**__**  
**__**Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me**__**  
**__**till I come marching home.**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you guys next week! Have a great weekend!**


	51. Chapter 50 - Thanksgiving, 1942

**A/N: Good morning, my lovelies! I managed another update this week! **

**Now, the good news is that next week's update is already finished, so you'll definitely be getting at least one update next week.**

**The bad news is for my Facebook lovelies: I posted a teaser yesterday, and…I goofed. It was for the following chapter. You **_**will**_** see that scene, but it'll be next week! Sorry!**

**Anyway, betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. All remaining mistakes are mine since I tend to tinker and tinker away.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 50 – Thanksgiving, 1942**

The old magnificent tree stood majestically in the late autumn sun with its egg-shaped cones hanging from long, hardy twigs. A few of these cones lay scattered around the tire swing like subjects genuflecting before their queen. Their pattern reminded me of games we once played as children, when the thick trunk was at the heart of "Ring around the Rosie," and we'd be ashes over the moist grass.

Feathery, needle-shaped leaves bouncing up and down in the breeze shielded a beautiful face from me, but I could see her sitting there, legs folded to her side as she gazed out at the horizon. After a few seconds of taking her in, of watching the setting sun cloak her in an orange glow while losing myself in more childhood memories starring her and me and our tree, I stepped out of the car, lifting my travel bag off of the passenger seat.

Almost as soon as I'd closed the car door, four furry legs jumped up on me, just as they'd been doing for almost a decade now whenever I returned after a long absence.

"Sandy, hey girl!" I knelt down to her level, affording her access to my face, which she proceeded to lick with vigor while I stroked her soft fur. "And Gus! I'm so glad to see you, boy!"

Always better behaved and trained than my admittedly spoiled Sandy, Gus waited patiently at Sandy's side for my greeting. The only sign of his own anxiousness was the way his short tail waved wildly back and forth. His presence infused my mind with hopeful thoughts. Perhaps there'd be good news this Thanksgiving after all. Masen was off in the middle of combat somewhere in North Africa, his regiment pushing their way eastward and chasing Rommel towards coastal Tunis. Edward was far away too, somewhere in England just about done with his training and getting ready to fly missions over enemy skies.

But maybe, just maybe, there'd be a bright spot this holiday – the return of the prodigal husband and friend. The return of Jasper.

I stood and walked towards Alice, who was leaning against the huge trunk where Edward had first kissed me on that day which seemed so long ago, when I was just shy of sixteen – when the world was already spinning out of control, but _our_ particular world, in a quiet corner of Washington, hadn't yet fallen prey to the madness.

Sandy and Gus flanked my sides, circling both Alice and me when I reached the tree.

"Come here, boy," she called, and Gus went to her, faithful as ever.

"He was dropped off on the doorstep early this morning. Momma opened the door, and there he was, sitting on the porch and wagging his tail. I imagine he'll be picked up sometime after Thanksgiving."

"Oh Alice."

No, we were no longer young girls sitting on the tire swing, laughing while we shared each other's deepest, most wonderful thoughts.

With a sigh, I fell to the grass next to her, bending my legs to the opposite side while Sandy took up her position next to me.

"Do you remember," Alice mused, eyes fixed somewhere in the past, "how every summer we'd spend hours and hours on that swing, talking and sharing with each other about absolutely everything we'd done over the past year?"

"Funny," I snorted, "I was just thinking about that. Sometimes, we wouldn't go inside until the sun would set, and Esme had to scold us to come in for supper."

"Masen and Rose would hide over there," she jerked her chin towards the small barn, "kissing where they thought no one could see them. And Edward would swing us back and forth on the tire, and when he'd get bored of swinging us, he'd sit against the trunk here and write in his journal."

"And then Jasper would come get him, and they'd start boxing and end up rolling on the grass."

Alice smiled, and it was almost as if the summer sun of our youth were once again shining over us.

"And then Pop would yell at them both for fighting in front of us," I added animatedly, making us both chuckle at the memory.

"Do you remember that summer we spent together in Chicago with Brady and Seth and Angela and…"

"And Jacob," I murmured.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "I can't believe it's been almost a year since…"

We listened to the swaying evergreen branches, humming in the stillness around us.

"I miss all those summers," she sighed. "It's a shame they had to end."

I shook my head. "They haven't completely ended. We've just got to get past this-"

"-past this god damn war," she finished for me.

"You sound like Edward," I snorted.

She grinned. "I've always been more like him than like Masen. Bella…we used to share with no judgment, no arguments - just you and me, best friends."

"Sisters at heart," I whispered.

"Do you think…we can be that way again?"

I reached out and pulled her in, and when she rested her head on my lap, I leaned over and placed a kiss on her temple.

For the next half hour or so, it was as if we were young girls again. We talked about everything we'd experienced since we'd last been together almost a year ago. She told me all about her training in the Red Cross's Nurse Cadet Corps. It was an accelerated program, and if she made it through, she'd graduate around April of 1944 as part of the Army Nurse Corps with a rank of Second Lieutenant.

"I'll be the same rank as Edward," she laughed.

"No, not really," I smiled. "By then, he'll be long done with his mandatory overseas tour of duty and be back serving stateside until the war is over. But if the war does continue, he'll probably be a captain by then."

"You sound so proud of him."

"That's because I am," I confirmed. "Just because I wish he wasn't over there doesn't mean I'm not proud of what he's doing. It's…hard to explain."

"No, I get it. It's good you support him," she nodded. "Believe me, it probably makes things a lot easier for him."

I admitted to her that Edward and I had made love before he left for England, and I told her how worried he'd been that he'd left me in trouble.

"Of course he was worried. He's always wanted so much for you, Bella – which is why he tried to stay away from you when we were younger. You've always been this…amazing person to him. Capable of doing so much. He would've hated himself if you couldn't have gone to college because of him."

"So you don't think he was worried simply because…he wasn't sure if he wanted to make a family with me?"

"Of course not, Bella," Alice smiled softly. "The way Edward loves you, well it's epic is what it is."

I drew in a long, deep breath, filling my lungs. "Thank you. I suppose I knew that, but…I needed to hear it from someone else."

We held one another's gaze, and after one long moment, she returned to resting her head on my lap.

"You know, if this war is still going when I graduate, I'll probably be sent overseas as well."

"I know."

"Bella, it started as an adventure, yes, I'll admit that, but…" – her head shot up - "had it been just that, I would've come home from training after a couple of months with my tail tucked between my legs, begging my husband's forgiveness, but this is more…it's something I _have_ to do. I read and hear the news about our boys in North Africa and in the Pacific, the casualties and the wounded. I picture Masen right in the middle of combat, and Edward flying and fighting in the air soon, and I have to do _my_ part. And I know that there are other ways, and I've tried to convince myself to walk away and find one of those other ways because I'm hurting Jasper. He tells me I'm undermining his role as the man in our marriage, making him seem weak to everybody because I'm off in the service and they won't take him, and I wish I could find the words to explain to him that making him feel weak is the last thing I want to do," she sobbed, "some way to make him understand that I love him! But I have to do this! I have to, Bella! I-"

"Shh." I tucked her head into my lap again, stroking her silky black hair while her tears fell over my trousers and seeped into my legs. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, Ally. You're like your brothers. You have to serve."

"My marriage is over."

"No, it's not." I picked up her head again so that I could meet her sad, blue eyes. "You're still husband and wife, and we all know that deep in his heart, Jasper still loves you madly. He's hurting. We're all hurting in one way or another. But you didn't cause any of this, Alice. None of us did. This is the war's fault. Always remember that."

"I'm afraid, Bella. I'm afraid that regardless of whose fault it is, we won't survive this."

And having no more answers for her, no further reassurances, I lowered her head back to my lap and stroked her hair.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'd arrived in Forks on the Wednesday before the first wartime Thanksgiving our nation would celebrate throughout this war. After spending some time with Alice, Rose, and little Masen Junior, Esme and I took a trip into town with our ration stamps, hoping to avoid the rush that would surely come the following morning. One turkey would be allotted per family, and with the stamps, we were hoping to be able to procure some more meat in the form of a roast beef or a ham, and some potatoes, turnips, carrots along with most of the items we'd need for tomorrow.

Yet everywhere we went, we encountered shortages, and talk would quickly turn to the reason for those shortages: the war. Then naturally, talk would turn to our boys in North Africa, England and the Pacific because by November of '42, almost everyone had someone in the war.

We decided to split up so that our errands would go faster, sending Esme to the butcher while I visited the Stanley Mercantile.

I'd heard that Jessica Stanley had officially taken over the running of her parent's mercantile. Remembering the scene between her and me on one of my last visits to the store, I was more than a bit relieved when I peeked through the glass door and found Mr. Stanley behind the counter instead. When the bell over the door chimed, he turned around and greeted me warmly.

"Isabella! How have you been? How's college?"

"It's very enjoyable, Mr. Stanley," I smiled. "How are you and your family?"

"We're doing well, thanks. Pretty busy as you can imagine, what with most of the young men in town off in the war or getting ready to go off. Help has become hard to come by, but Jessica is managing nicely. How's your young man? Carlisle tells me he's in England now, finishing up his flight training."

"Yes, that's right. He's just about done."

Mr. Stanley shook his head solemnly, sucking his teeth and resting his elbows over the glass counter.

"It's a shame he decided on the Air Corps. Rumors are that things aren't going very well for them over there. Lots of boys being shot down, and…"

In his defense, he did manage to catch himself before finishing the sentence. His face turned a bright shade of crimson, and he cleared his throat.

"Has there been any more word on Masen since learning that he's in North Africa?"

"No, sir. Not since the letter he wrote Rose."

"I'm surprised the censors let that go," Mr. Stanley mused. "But then again, they knew we'd all know about that campaign already once Masen's letter reached home. Now it's just a matter of waiting to see if he makes it out of there- I mean, them medics do have that red cross on their helmets to keep 'em from getting their brains- well, I…I…I'm sure he's fine. Oh Jesus," he finally stammered, wiping a thin sheen of nervous sweat from his forehead.

"How's Mike?" I interceded, attempting to halt Mr. Stanley's unfiltered thoughts. "Has Jessica heard from him?"

Mr. Stanley nodded, shame and remorse clearly coloring his speech. "Jessica is in Seattle with Mike's parents, picking him up from the train station. He's on holiday furlough. Almost done with boot camp, though he's not sure where he's being sent yet. Isabella, forgive an old man's stupidity. My wife has always told me I need to think before I speak, and with this war…and Thanksgiving tomorrow…well, it's a shame the Cullen boys can't be with us."

I paid for my supplies and offered him a faint smile. "Have a good Thanksgiving, Mr. Stanley."

"You too, Isabella," he said grimly as I walked to the door. "You take care of yourself down there in Seattle, and…we'll be praying for the Cullen boys around the Thanksgiving table tomorrow."

I turned around once more. "Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, we gathered around the kitchen prepping for the following day's feast. I didn't mention Mr. Stanley's ill-worded faux pas. Though his words circled in my head in a continuous loop, like a vulture orbiting its prey, I was determined to be the only one to have nightmares from them that night.

So we cut carrots and peeled potatoes. Rose placed the baby's small bassinet by the table, and we all took turns checking in on him, cooing in between our chopping, dancing and humming to the songs on the Philco: Glenn Miller's _American Patrol_ and Bing Crosby's _White Christmas, _a new tune which was catching on. In between, we did what every other family in the nation was most likely doing at that moment: we discussed the latest developments in the war.

"Was anyone really surprised when Hitler went in and occupied Vichy France just two days after the North African invasion?" Alice asked, shaking her head while she chopped up the celery that Esme had carefully jarred and preserved from her garden. "It was clearly in retaliation for the French Admiral switching to the Allied side in North Africa."

"The only reason he switched sides was because Eisenhower agreed to name him "high commissioner" in North Africa," I added while peeling the carrots. "Everyone knows that the Vichy have always been Nazi collaborators."

"It's a disgusting shame that General Eisenhower made that agreement," Carlisle scowled, "and an insult to the Free French fighting in North Africa."

"Yes, Carlisle, but the alternative would've been our Allies continuing to fight the Vichy French in Algeria and Morocco instead of moving on to fighting the Axis in Tunisia," Esme reminded him gently.

Rose paused in her chopping, drawing in a deep breath. She kept her eyes on the potatoes, and I had a feeling it was to hide the tears forming.

"I want Masen out of there as quickly as possible, and if that means a side deal with the Vichy, then so be it."

"You're right, sweetheart," Carlisle agreed quietly. "You're right."

And as we resumed our cutting, chopping and peeling, I thought of the words that the English Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, uttered a couple of days after the invasion, when it was clear that the joint British and American forces would be victorious:

"_This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."_

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, as I lay alone in Edward's bed, I wondered what sort of Thanksgiving he'd have and what sort of Thanksgiving Masen would be allowed to have. I pulled out the latest letter I'd received from Edward right before I'd left Seattle and scanned it, as I'd done so many times already:

_The thick layer of clouds constantly above have grounded us yet again. I'm going stir crazy, sweetheart. We're getting another weekend pass for our Thanksgiving holiday next week, though it's not a holiday here in England. Bella, I don't know what has me more uptight, the nerves from not having flown one single mission yet, or the boredom of not having flown one single mission yet. We've finally agreed on a name for the fortress, and I'm not ashamed to say I won because I'm the pilot. She's the __**'Woodland Nymph'**__ and I'm sending you a picture of my crew and me next to her. I hope you can see the nose art. It came out really swell…_

OOOOOOOOOO

On Thanksgiving morning, we attended church services. Since it was a special holiday, many of our boys serving stateside or getting ready to serve in one theatre of the war or another had been granted furlough. Church was filled with all kinds of uniforms. The reverend gave thanks for the most recent news from the Russian front: the Russians had finally broken through the Nazi siege at Stalingrad. He said a prayer for all the lives lost, and before dismissing us, he said a prayer for our American boys already in combat and for those who'd already given their lives in the war. Despite how small Forks was, there were more than a handful of names mentioned, and I closed my eyes tightly against the quiet tears and sobs I heard reverberating around the tiny church.

Despite rationing and despite the fact that we were spending Thanksgiving without Edward and Masen, Esme prepared a wonderful meal that November of 1942. We had a small but delicious roast beef, beans and turnips, carrots, potatoes, home-baked apple pie, a delicious chocolate cake that Esme taught me to make with vinegar, vanilla, oil and water instead of our rationed milk and eggs. And of course, there was the magnificent turkey.

Afterwards, full and feeling thankful, we passed the baby around, laughing and imagining Masen's reaction when he finally got to meet his son, all fat and dimpled and the spitting image of his father even at barely three months of age. The conversation eventually turned to the war, and we talked about the naval battle that had been fought a couple of weeks earlier in the Pacific. Though it had been a hard-won battle, the U.S. Navy had managed to retain control of the sea around the important islands of Guadalcanal."

##########

"The Naval Battle of Guadalcanal," Isabella muses. "Isn't that where the _USS Juneau_ was sunk?"

"Yes,"' I nod, "though due to security, the navy didn't reveal the loss of the _Juneau_ to the public until early January, 1943."

"Isn't that the ship where those five brothers served together?"

"The Sullivan brothers, yes," I confirm. "They served and died together aboard the _Juneau_. It was due to that tragedy that the U.S. War Department adopted the Sole Survivor Policy…"

"What was the Sole Survivor Policy?" someone asks.

"Nana?"

"Nana?"

"Mama?"

"Leah, sweetheart," I smile, "when did you return?"

"Mama, I've been here for a while. Are you okay? You've been…well, you've been quiet for a few minutes."

"I'm fine, darling. Now where was I?"

##########

Oh yes. Thanksgiving, 1942.

Well, with Thanksgiving behind us, the nation geared up for what would now be our second wartime Christmas during this campaign. Alice returned to her nursing program, and I returned to Seattle and immersed myself in my studies.

I'd written to Papa Phil upon my return to Seattle, informing him that I'd decided to remain in Washington for Christmas even though we'd agreed that I would be going back to New York for that holiday and the new year. The truth was that I felt calmer when I was in Forks, more at ease, closer to Edward by being close to his family. We had ties that bound us in a way I didn't feel I had with anyone in New York.

I also wrote to Charlie to let him know I wouldn't be visiting him this winter. Though I felt badly about that, I just wasn't in a frame of mind to visit Chicago. In a few days, it would be December 7, the one year anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor…and the one year anniversary of Jacob's death aboard the _USS_ _Arizona_. Dad and Billy would have one another for moral support, and I reasoned that it would be enough. With Masen in North Africa and Edward so close to flying his missions, I didn't want such a vivid reminder of what could happen to those I loved.

Was it cowardly of me to think this way? Probably. But I was eighteen years old, living on my own and making my own decisions. Not all the choices I made were good ones.

And so on December 7, 1942, while a nation mourned loved ones and the loss of an innocence that ended exactly one year ago, I sat alone in my room and mourned the death of my childhood friend, the boy whom I'd known ever since I could walk…the boy who gave me my first kiss.

…_I know that the first anniversary of Jacob's death is coming up. I wish I could be there with you, Bella, to hold you as you cry for him, as I know you will. I don't want you to feel guilty about missing him or mourning him. You loved him, I know that. He was good to you, and I'll always respect him for that. If you need to talk about him, to write me about him, please don't hesitate. I'll be here for you, Bella, as much as I can be…_

OOOOOOOOOO

I wrote to Edward daily. Nightly. I reread all his letters over and over, in between studying, in between anything and everything.

"…_.God, Bella, the things I read and hear. Russians being slaughtered by the thousands, rumors that the Jews here are being shipped off to work camps and never seen or heard from again. Then there are our troops in Bataan over in the Philippines that have been abandoned while our government focuses on this war here in Europe. I suppose right now, it would be impossible to fight the war on all its fronts but Jesus, don't we have a responsibility to them? Don't we have a social responsibility to every front on which we're fighting? To those Jews here? A responsibility not only to win this war, but also to make up for the damage we ourselves are inflicting on the people and the geography? Social responsibility is about more than winning the war, it's about doing what's right for everyone involved…"_

"…_of course I understand what you're saying, Edward. But if you see it that way, then you must also see that those German soldiers have families too, families who worry for them, who pray for them. Does our social responsibility apply to them as well? You can't apply it to only some people, Edward. It must be applied overall…"_

The last day of classes arrived a week before Christmas. I returned to Mrs. Conway's both mentally and physically exhausted and looking forward to nothing more than a warm bath and then an early bedtime where I could dream, as I did quite often, of Edward and of our last night together. The following morning, I would be driving to Forks, where I planned to stay until a week after the new year, when I'd return to Seattle to begin the next semester of school.

When I opened the door to my small apartment, I found a tall man draped in a long, dark trench coat with his back to me, facing the window as he gazed out at the dreary, Seattle fog. My heart lurched in my chest. Hearing my entrance, the man slowly turned around.

"Papa Phil, you nearly frightened me to death!" I pulled the apartment door closed behind me and removed my coat and hat, hanging them on the rack before peeling off my gloves. "What are you doing here?'

"That's a fine way to greet your father."

Feeling chastised and all of nine again, I dropped my gloves over the sofa and approached him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and his sandalwood cologne.

"I'm sorry. Hello, Papa."

He pulled back and studied me through reserved, inscrutable eyes. "Hello, Isabella. You look well."

"Thank you. So do you. Please, take off your coat," I coaxed. "Would you like a drink? I had no idea you were coming, so I don't have anything prepared, but I can probably make us-"

He took a couple of steps back, quickly checking his shiny gold pocket watch. "That's fine, Isabella. We don't have much time anyway."

"Much time for what?" I smiled.

Papa Phil smoothed down his coat and adjusted his tie. "Much time to make our train."

"Our train? But-"

"I've come to escort you home for the holidays, Isabella."

My heart stammered. "But…Papa Phil, I wrote to let you know I wouldn't be coming home this year, that I'd be spending the rest of the holidays in Forks. Did you not receive my letter?"

"Oh, I received it," he confirmed, holding my gaze steadily. "I allowed you to remain in Washington for Thanksgiving, but your mother and I are both anxious to spend some time with you."

At some point, my heart had started up again, and now it beat with a furious rhythm.

"Mother couldn't care less where I am, not since I failed to follow through with her grandiose plans for me, and _you_ are always either away on business or locked in your office in meetings and on calls. I have nothing to come home to."

"I wouldn't call that accurate," he contradicted, his tone calm and in control, "and what's more, your sister Lauren and her fiancé will also be visiting and-"

"And I'm sure she's as anxious to see me as I am to see her," I sneered. "Besides, with Masen in North Africa, Rose and the Cullens have been very worried, and I want to be there with them."

Papa Phil sighed deeply. "Isabella, believe me when I say that my nightly thoughts and prayers are with young Masen. Now, I understand your attachment to the Cullens, your desire to be close to them right now, but you _will_ be coming home. You're _our_ child, and as such-"

"I'm _not_ a child any longer, Papa Phil!" I shook my head. "I'm eighteen years old now and-"

"And still under my guardianship both legally and financially; therefore, you will do as I say."

My lungs swelled with indignation. "At the very least, I should have a right to decide where and with whom I spend my holidays!"

At this pronouncement, he coolly raised a brow in my direction before taking to pacing the floor before me, his hands knitted together behind his back while periodically leveling me with his steely gaze.

"At the very least, Isabella? Do you truly mean to stand there, look me in the eye, and tell me that you haven't been responsible for quite a few of your own decisions as of late, from choosing your college all the way over here on the west coast, to your visit last spring to Savannah to see your beau, to your visit to see Charles in August, to your one night…_disappearance_ from your dormitory a few months ago - right before your _fiancé_ left for England?" He finished through clenched teeth. "Should I go on? All things considered, I think I've been quite lenient and understanding."

Despite the heat scorching my cheeks, I held my chin high. "I won't apologize for making decisions which were mine to make!"

Papa Phil stopped. For a few seconds, his eyes flashed with fury, and when he opened his mouth, a clear rebuttal dancing on his tongue, I braced myself for what I was sure would be an epic earful.

Yet instead of sharp, heated words, he closed his mouth again and began chuckling, his head pivoting from side to side while his shoulders danced with amusement.

"Ah, Isabella, you are most definitely your mother's child."

"I am nothing like Mother!"

But Papa Phil simply entertained himself with more chuckles. When he'd recovered, he took a seat on the small sofa, still chortling quietly while methodically adjusting first the seams of his pants and then the buttons on his suit jacket. He crossed his legs, steepling his hands over his thighs, and looked up at me with a sigh and a confident smile.

"Isabella, darling, we have a long ride ahead of us during which we can argue your physical and temperamental resemblance to your mother to your heart's content. But for now, please go get your things ready."

Arms crossed against my chest, I stood there glowering, having absolutely no intention of moving while in a proverbial stand-off with my stepfather, Philip Dwyer the Second: business tycoon and one of the most powerful men in the country.

It was, of course, an ill-fated battle.

After a few minutes, I huffed in exasperation. "May I go call the Cullens and give them the short notice that I won't be visiting after all?"

"They've already been informed," he said smoothly. "One less thing for you to worry about."

I stomped my foot. "Papa Phil, I'd like to go on record as saying that I do _not_ appreciate the high-handedness with which you've treated me this afternoon!"

"Your distress is duly noted. Now go pack."

With another livid huff, I stormed into my bedroom.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist: **_**American Patrol**_** (1942) by Glenn Miller &amp; His Orchestra:**

_***purely instrumental, but so worth the listen***_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you guys on Monday! Have a great weekend!**


	52. Chapter 51 Holidays With You So Far Away

**A/N: Good Morning, my lovelies. Hope you all had a great weekend! Thanks so much for giving me your thoughts, and here's the next chapter. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**AOI Chapter 51 – Holidays With You So Far Away**

For the first two days of our train ride east, I locked myself inside my private room and took my meals alone, refusing to answer whenever Papa Phil knocked.

But like my real father, Charlie, I wasn't a person built for grudges – at least not at that time. So by the third morning, I emerged from my room dressed for breakfast with the owner of the railroad himself, my stepfather. The fact was that I wouldn't be spending the holidays with Edward; therefore, it made little difference who I did spend them with. And so Papa Phil and I spent the next couple of days dining together, having long, deep discussions on his one true passion: his railroad, and staring out of the windows at the passing landscape.

Once we arrived in New York, the holidays proceeded just as I'd expected. As soon as we entered the house, Papa Phil immersed himself in meetings and Mother greeted me with overabundant smiles full of unconvincing warmth. She spent the entire time with either a wine goblet or a champagne flute in hand, holding inane conversations with her inane friends while half-heartedly attempting to draw me into them.

I'd written to Edward while en route to let him know that I'd be spending Christmas and New Years in New York after all. I asked him not to forward any of his correspondence to me there because I would be back in Seattle by the time he'd have a chance to respond to that letter anyway. I also wrote Charlie and informed him that I'd be visiting after all, a couple of days after the New Year. From there, I'd head back to Seattle.

And since I was in New York anyway, I made plans with my friend from my days at Miss Tudor's, Tanya Larson, who was still living with her family in Connecticut and attending a women's college there.

A few days before Christmas, Tanya came down to New York City, and we spent a day taking in the holiday sights. They were a bit more reserved than previous years due to necessity, but they were beautiful just the same. Wrapped in thigh-length wool coats and long cashmere gloves that kept the east coast chill at bay, we strolled past the holiday window displays along Fifth Avenue and Christmas shopped in Bergdorf Goodman.

We made a stop at the huge post office on thirty-first and eighth, where that Christmas, thousands of people – including me - mailed out packages to their loved ones serving overseas. I mailed out the presents I'd gotten the Cullens but hadn't been able to deliver personally thanks to Papa Phil's mandate. And though I'd already posted Edward's present in late November to make sure he received it by Christmas, I'd bought a dozen Jewish bagels that morning, ones you simply couldn't find outside of New York. Piping hot and fresh, I had them wrapped tightly and wrote Edward a quick note, and then I posted those out to him as well.

At sunset, we waited with the crowd in front of City Hall for Mayor LaGuardia to light the annual Christmas tree. When the mayor flipped a switch that lit 360 bulbs on a sixty foot Christmas tree, we all appreciatively oohed and aahed and clapped, and then we said a prayer, as we often did back then, for our boys celebrating the holidays far from home.

A half hour later, when the lights were quickly flipped off, Tanya slipped her arm through mine, and we strolled away.

"Well, that tree lighting was a bit of a disappointment, don't you agree? Only a half hour of lights?" she snorted.

"We're in the middle of a war, Tanya, and just because it's the Christmas season, the dim-out restrictions don't end, nor are they suspended for our pleasure."

"Well, that's simply unacceptable! I'll have to have Daddy write to Mayor LaGuardia as soon as possible!"

I stopped and crooked a brow her way.

"I'm just teasing, Isabella! Even I'm not that spoiled! Goodness, you've become so humorless these past few months since you've been in Seattle! I truly believe the weather over there is negatively affecting you!" She laughed, and with a smile and a shake of my head, we continued on our way.

Afterwards, we took a checkered cab back to Riverside Drive. Tanya pulled out her engraved gold cigarette box and flipped it open, offering me one of her Chesterfields. When I declined, she pulled one out for herself and positioned it between her lips, handing me the matching lighter so that I might do the honors.

"So Isabella," – she side-eyed me while blowing out a swirl of smoke into the cab's roof – "will you be attending the New Year's Eve Ball at The Plaza? Anybody who's anybody will be there!"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I may just stay home and-"

"And what?" She smirked while she drew in another pull. "And write Edward yet another letter? Isabella, be honest. Would Edward want you to do that, end the year all alone in your room and start the next year out the same way?"

"He certainly wouldn't want me throwing myself at or flirting and slow dancing with a bunch of men instead!"

"No one is asking you to throw yourself at or flirt with anyone, Isabella," she clarified with an exasperated droll and a roll of her yes. "But I'm sure your fiancé wouldn't begrudge you a dance. Or two. Besides, it's a fundraiser as well, and I know how big you are on those. You'll be doing your part, and you won't be sitting at home wallowing away needlessly. Come on!" she nudged me with a laugh. "It'll be fun!"

OOOOOOOOOO

A couple of days later, on Christmas Eve, Lauren and her fiancé, Justin, arrived. We went to dinner at 'The 21 Club' where the entire conversation revolved around Lauren's plans for her overly-extravagant sounding wedding the following May. I received a clearly forced invitation to be one of her bridesmaids, and not wanting to hurt Papa's pockets or feelings – because I was positive he'd put her up to it and that it had cost him a pretty penny – I accepted with a smile.

The Vandernecks, as well as few other friends of Mother and Papa Phil, joined us on Christmas Day - minus Peter. Mrs. Vanderneck continuously glared at me, whispering in furious tones with her friends as I sat by the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, I caught snippets here and there of what sounded like a rather intense conversation. "Peter" and "college" and "ungrateful" and "that other boy," were hissed over and over. Then she left the whispering behind and rose her voice to a pitch and volume that would've assured the neighbors' attention:

"Yes, Peter is doing wonderfully! He's currently in Boston with his fiancée, Judith. He'll be graduating in the spring and then they'll marry right away! You have no idea how much it thrills me that he'll be marrying someone as beautiful and worthy as is Judith Laurent, as there are _some_ young ladies who have no idea what a wonderful catch my son is!"

I caught a glimpse of Mother then, standing on the other side of the room with a goblet of wine in hand and looking absolutely mortified. And with a sigh, I continued gazing at the tree.

OOOOOOOOOO

_Mother and Papa Phil gave me more jewelry for Christmas: a pair of hugely ornate diamond drop earrings with a large, solitary sapphire at the very end of each. The sight of them would've truly made you laugh, Edward, because when will I ever wear them? Nevertheless, I kissed them both and thanked them politely while I enclosed the earrings back in their Van Cleef &amp; Arpels box, where they'll remain and be filed away in the back of my bedroom closet, along with all the other boxes of jewelry they insist on giving me year after year. Do they truly know me so little, Edward, or does Mother simply hope that one day I'll emerge from my bedroom wearing every single jewelry piece after having morphed into exactly whatever it is that she's always wanted me to be? _

_I sound extremely ungrateful; I know. But I'm just so tired of all this. The ridiculous pomp and circumstance of it all. And I miss you so much this evening, Edward. I feel as if I would've been able to bear these past couple of weeks much more graciously and gracefully had you been here. Even if you'd been on a base in Texas or Tennessee or Georgia - still so close, merely in another state._

_I should've appreciated those months much more than I did. Now I've turned into someone with little patience, little understanding, someone thoughtless and selfish. Perhaps…_

_Perhaps I'm much more like Mother than I ever realized. Perhaps I _

_Hold on, my love, someone is knocking on my bedroom door._

"Just a moment!"

When I opened the door, Papa Phil was standing on the other side, still dressed in his Christmas tux with a soft grin on his face.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"I was just writing Edward."

He nodded. "May I come in for a minute?"

"Of course, Papa."

He took a seat on my guest chair and sighing, looked up at me.

"How did you like your earrings?"

"They were lovely," I lied. "Thank you again."

"Hm," he hummed. "Well, they'll certainly look attractive keeping the rest of your stored jewels company."

We held one another's gaze…and then burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, Papa."

"Don't be," he chuckled, holding up a hand to halt my apologies. "I just came to say that…I _am_ pleased that you came home, Isabella. I would've liked to spend more time with both you and Lauren, but with the war, the railroad has been keeping me extremely busy."

"It's alright, Papa Phil. I understand."

He nodded thoughtfully and then stood, moving closer to place a kiss on my forehead. "Now, I know you want to get back to your letter, but I have one more Christmas present for you and our family."

"Oh?"

OOOOOOOOOO

_December 26, 1942_

_Dear Edward,_

_I apologize for not finishing my letter yesterday afternoon, but we received a Christmas present from Papa Phil that kept us out rather late, and by the time we arrived back home, I was quite tired and figured I'd be much more able to write with a clearer mind if I finished my letter to you this morning._

_Papa Phil surprised Mother, Lauren, Justin and me with a private screening at Radio City Music Hall of the new film, "Casablanca," starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman! _

_Edward it's a wonderful film, full of intrigue, mystery, thrills and romance! It's set in Casablanca, Morocco, and Humphrey Brogart plays Rick, an American expatriate who must choose between love and helping out with the war effort._

_And the music, Edward! _

"_You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh…"_

_I thought of you throughout the entire film, wishing I had you near me in the darkened theater so that we could kiss and touch to our heart's content, and I could hear you sigh into my ear the way you did that night._

_But be assured I didn't only want you near me for that. I wished we could share our thoughts on the film, compare notes on whether Rick is really a good or selfish person, on whether Ilsa ultimately loves him or her Czech Resistance fighter husband, Victor Laszlo, on what you thought happened after the credits: did Rick really believe that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between the Vichy Captain of Police, Renault, and himself, and did he take up his suggestion that they both join the Free French movement, or did they both simply disappear into the fog, never to be seen again?_

_I'm sorry if I'm ruining the film for you. Perhaps the USO will play it for you and the rest of the airmen soon, since Papa Phil informed me that the release date of the film was purposely moved up once Hollywood found out about the North African campaign. It's a beautiful film, Edward, and perhaps you'll think of me as I thought of you while watching it._

_Edward, I've read over the first part of this letter, and I'm ashamed and embarrassed by how pitiful and melancholic I sound throughout. I don't want you to think of me this way. I'm okay, Edward. I miss you so, but I'll be alright. I'll close my eyes and think of you, keep myself warm with all the memories we've made with one another over the past nine years. The days pass quickly when I keep myself busy by doing all I can to help with the war effort from here at home. You focus on what you need to do over there in order to be able to return to me quickly. Don't worry about me. _

_I'm enclosing a picture of Tanya and me standing by the City Hall Christmas tree. Tanya has asked me to tell you not to be afraid to show her picture around and to let your fellow flyboys know that she's quite single and available. No, she hasn't changed much._

_I truly hope you're having a peaceful Christmas. God bless you and keep you safe, my love._

_Yours always and forever,_

_Bella Dwyer _

OOOOOOOOOO

On New Year's Eve, I accompanied Mother, Papa Phil, Lauren and Justin to the New Year's 1943 Fundraiser Ball held at The Plaza.

The ballroom was decorated with sparkling white lights hanging from absolutely every possible surface. White flowers of all types were splayed out in elegant, tall vases. The tables were dressed in white satin tablecloths, and men and women dressed in white tuxedoes handed out flutes and flutes of white champagne and white chocolate.

Tanya was waiting for me with a table full of Navy boys she'd already made fast friends with. I joined them for a while, and we talked and laughed while the band played in the background - Jimmy Dorsey and Kay Kyser, the big band trumpets of _Manhattan Serenade_ by Harry James and of course, Bing Crosby's _White Christmas_, which had become a huge hit with everyone over the past couple of months.

And so while I smiled and held pleasant conversation with the navy boys, I swayed and bounced in my chair to the swinging beats, clapping and waving my hands around quite a bit.

Tanya eyed me with a knowing smirk on her face while one of the boys eagerly lit her Chesterfield.

"By the way," she said, narrowing her lips as she blew a swirl of smoke out into the hazy air above us, "Isabella is engaged, in case her subtle hints haven't made that perfectly clear, and she's not here to flirt or to slow dance." She gave me a playful wink.

There was a sudden silence, and then four out of the five boys with us quickly switched their entire attention towards Tanya.

"Are you really engaged?" the one boy who still seemed interested in talking to me asked.

I nodded.

"So am I! My girl, Lou-Anne, is back in Virginia, and soon as I come back from my tour overseas, we're gonna get hitched!"

"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "How long have you been engaged?"

"Just a couple of months," he said. "Her daddy doesn't know yet. She's waiting until I'm overseas to tell him."

"Oh. Well, my parents all know, but yes, we're waiting until he comes back from England to get married as well."

"He's in England already? Air Force?"

"Yes," I grinned.

"Lucky son of a gun. I failed the vision screening and ended up with this instead," he smiled, pointing at his white uniform.

"Well, I'm sure you'll-"

"Well now that you two have found some common ground," Tanya interrupted, slowly standing and wrapping her white fur stole around herself, "I think I _will_ go have myself a dance. Which one of you fellas wants to be the lucky one to take me out on that dance floor?"

A chorus of "I do's" erupted all around.

A little while later, that navy boy and I did go out on that dance floor. His easy-going attitude, combined with how polite and respectful he was, set me at ease. And besides, our entire conversation revolved around Lou-Ann and Edward.

A few minutes before midnight, I bade goodbye to Tanya and the navy boys and joined my family at our table. And as 1942 turned into 1943, we sang _Auld Lang Syne_ and held up our champagne flutes, toasting to a new year, to our boys overseas, to a quick end to the war, and praying for those we'd lost.

Once we'd finished toasting, Papa Phil whisked Mother away to the dance floor, and when they returned a few songs later, I noticed that Papa Phil's cheeks were a bright shade of red from the generous amounts of champagne he'd been consuming all night, and Mother was flushed and looking happier than I'd seen her in…a long time. Then he took Lauren's hand and helped her stand, and with a wink in my direction, he warned,

"I'm coming back for you next, Isabella!"

I laughed heartily, and after a couple of dances with Lauren, he did indeed come back for me.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked as we moved across the dance floor.

"Yes, Papa, I suppose I am," I sighed.

"Don't be ashamed of that," he said. "Do you think Edward would want you sitting at home all alone tonight because he can't be here to take you out?"

"Tanya said something similar to me," I admitted.

"Well, I wouldn't put much stock into most of Miss Larson's advice, but I must say that in this case, she's correct."

Both our eyes moved towards Tanya, who was now dancing with three of the navy boys at once.

Papa Phil shook his head, and I chuckled heartily. Soon, Justin cut in, and unlike the dances I'd shared with the navy boy and with Papa Phil, Justin and I moved silently and awkwardly together, which made me wonder why he'd cut in in the first place. All the while, Lauren shot daggers my way, and as soon as the song ended, I thanked him and moved away, intending to go visit Tanya again for a while to give Lauren a chance to cool off.

Before I could reach Tanya's table, someone grabbed my arm carefully yet firmly.

"Bella?"

In New York, everyone called me Isabella. The shortened nickname was one I was used to hearing only from those in Washington and from…Edward. In those seconds, while I swung around, my heart raced in my chest. For that split second, I allowed myself to hope…to believe…

"Peter," I said, my voice almost breaking from disappointment. He was dressed impeccably, in a black tuxedo with a crisp, white shirt and black bow tie, his blond hair parted and slicked back perfectly.

"Bella, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. What are you doing here?" I frowned. "I'd heard you'd be spending the holidays in Boston."

"Yes, well, my plans have more or less changed." He rested his other hand on my other arm. "May I have this dance?"

"I…uh…thank you, but I was just about to go join my friend Tanya. She's waiting for me."

Peter turned around to where Tanya was now in the process of being swung around the dance floor, passed from sailor to sailor a la Broadway chorus girl.

He brought his eyes back to me, mouth lifted in a smirk. "I'd say she's fine without you for now."

"But I'd really rather not dance-"

"It's the beginning of a new year, Isabella. Besides, you _have_ danced this evening, _and_," he added before I could get another word in edgewise, "I assure you that I've neither forgotten that you're engaged, nor would I stoop so low as to make a pass at another fellow's girl while he's off teaching the krauts a lesson."

I pursed my lips.

He chuckled. "Come on, Isabella. It's merely a dance between two old friends. I promise you that my hands and conversation will both reflect the respect owed both to you and your fiancé."

"Well…" I eyed him warily, but if there'd been no harm in dancing with the engaged navy boy, surely there'd be no harm in dancing with an engaged Peter.

I crooked a brow. "Do you promise to behave?"

With exaggerated flourish, he drew an 'X' across his chest. "Cross my heart."

##########

"Ah shit," Olivia exclaims.

"Olivia!" Isabella yells.

##########

We danced the first minute of the song in silence. It was an unremarkable song, which I honestly can't remember, something which thankfully neither required spirited movement nor extremely close contact. Peter lightly curved a hand around my waist and held my other hand, while I faintly rested my other hand over his lapel.

"I hear you did very well in your first semester of college."

"I did."

"That's wonderful."

"Thank you."

Another minute passed.

"And I hear that you're almost done with college?" I asked.

He smiled. "Yes."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Silence.

"And what will you be doing afterwards, Peter?"

"I've already enlisted in the Air Force and will begin Officer's training as soon as I'm done with Harvard."

I nodded slowly. "So you'll begin as an officer."

"Yes. I suppose I'll be what a few of my soon-to-be fellow airmen would call a 'ninety-day wonder penguin'."

I frowned.

"Ninety-day wonder refers to the three month course to earn my commission, and the penguin part is because I won't be flying."

I was unable to withhold a snort. "So you'll remain stateside."

"I didn't say that," he clarified. "I said I won't be flying. There are other jobs with the Air Force that don't require being up in the air, yet in their own way they're just as crucial, and the Army and I have both decided that I'd be of more use in one of those positions."

"Doing what, exactly?"

He flashed me a sardonic grin. "You know, you'd make a great interrogator. Perhaps we should let The War Department know about _you_."

My eyes dropped to his lapel, and I pressed my lips together. "I apologize. I suppose I'm being nosy."

"You can be as nosy as you want – to a degree."

When I brought my eyes back up to him, we both chuckled.

We moved together in silence for another long minute, and then my eyes began searching the ballroom for Peter's fiancée, which I assumed couldn't be too far away.

"Peter, where's Judith? I'd love to say hi to her and wish her a happy new year."

"As far as I know, Judith is in Boston."

"As far as you know?"

"Our engagement is over, Isabella."

My shoulders deflated, and I truly felt pity for him in that moment.

"Oh, Peter. I'm so sorry."

Peter drew in a long, protracted breath, training his eyes on a spot just above my head. "Yes, well. I suppose not all engagements are meant to lead to an actual wedding."

"I suppose."

"Though I figure I got off easy. The alternative would've been marriage to a woman I couldn't really love because my heart is still stupidly stuck somewhere else."

I shook my head. "Peter-"

"Judith was all that was perfect for me, yet…_she_ wasn't." He held my gaze meaningfully.

"Peter, you promised," I hissed, trying to pull away, but he grabbed both my hands and dipped his head low, eyes suddenly level with mine.

"I know. I know," he hissed back, "and I haven't forgotten that you're engaged. Believe me, I haven't forgotten. And I wouldn't try to steal you away from him – unless _you_ ever decided that-"

"Listen to me, Peter," I growled, the music in the background affording us privacy despite the crowd. "Once and for all, _listen_. I will never, _ever_ decide that. My engagement _will_ lead to an actual wedding!"

"These are unsure times with unsure futures."

My hand itched to reach out and slap him, but as I looked around, there were more than a couple of pairs of eyes on us, including Mother's, who looked our way with such hope shining in her beautiful blue eyes. Dancing or arguing, she didn't care. As long as she saw us together, for her, there was still hope.

I shook Peter off. "Don't seek me out anymore, Peter, in any way!"

"Bella, please don't-"

"No! We can't be friends anymore. We simply can't. Yes, these are unsure times, but if there's one thing I know," I said, my voice breaking, "if there's one thing I _have_ to know in order to keep myself from going insane, is that my future is inextricably tied to Edward's, one way or another. Goodbye."

OOOOOOOOOO

_January 2, 1943_

_My dear Edward,_

_I hope the new year is treating you well, my love. I hope you're warm and that all your New Year wishes come true. I have good news, Edward, which you may have already heard!_

_Rose received a letter from Masen! He's in a small village just outside of Tunis, and they've got Rommel retreating westward into Libya! He's okay, Edward! _

_So far, the year is starting out well…_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_January 3, 1943_

_My beautiful Bella,_

_We flew our first mission today, attacking a German U-boat pen in a village in Vichy France. I can't go into details, and I wouldn't want to anyway._

_God, Bella, how I need you right now. I need to hold you. I need you to hold me tightly. I need to feel your warm breath on me and to feel your soft lips against my ear while you whisper your love for me over and over, while you promise that you'll be waiting and assure me that nothing will ever keep us apart. I'll close my eyes when I'm done with this letter and do my best to imagine you close to me, to remember the feel of your skin against mine on our last night together._

_I'm okay, Bella. I swear that to you. But please, sweetheart, in all your goodness and kindness, say a prayer for the families of Second Lieutenants John Wilkey and Matt Powers, along with their crews. If He'll listen to anyone, it's to you._

_Bella, I love you so much. I realize now how naïve I've been. How stupid and arrogant. Most of all, I realize how unappreciative I've been of how perfect my life was those summers in Forks when I had you with me. We had it so good, Bella. Wait for me, and someday, we'll have those summers again._

_Your loving and loyal fiancé who hasn't forgotten one single moment with you,_

_Lieutenant Edward A. Cullen._

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: **_**Night and Day**_** \- recorded in 1942 by Frank Sinatra, but written in 1933 by Cole Porter (and recorded by many other artists since).**

_**Night and day, you are the one  
**__**Only you beneath the moon or under the sun  
**__**Whether near to me or far  
**__**It's no matter, darling, where you are  
**__**I think of you day and night**__**  
**_

_**Night and day, why is it so  
**__**That this longing for you follows wherever I go?  
**__**In the roaring traffic's boom  
**__**In the silence of my lonely room  
**__**I think of you day and night**__**  
**_

_**Night and day, under the hide of me  
**__**There's an oh, such a hungry yearning burning inside of me  
**__**And its torment won't be through  
**__**Till you let me spend my life making love to you  
**__**Day and night, night and day**__**  
**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**I'll try to update again this week. If not, see you guys next week!**


	53. Chapter 52 - On a Wing and a Prayer

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts, guys. I'm a bit under the weather and a day behind this week, but here you go. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 52 – 1943: On a Wing and a Prayer**

On a cold winter day, in mid-January of 1943, I returned to Seattle after having visited Charlie for a week in Chicago.

A little less than one year earlier, I'd made the exact trip from east to west in order to spend the holidays with the Cullens during one of our nation's darkest periods in history. A few weeks earlier, on a sunny, nondescript Sunday morning, Pearl Harbor had been attacked without warning. Jacob, along with thousands of other sailors, had been caught unprepared and found floating face down in an ocean littered with debris and oil.

In the hours, days, and weeks following, the Japanese had attacked and invaded the Philippines, Malaya, followed by island after island in the Pacific. In Europe, the German offensive into Russia, though severely hampered by the harsh Soviet winter, had continued moving forward. And in North Africa, Rommel's push onward was being met with little resistance.

And Edward, as well as thousands of other young men in our nation, had immediately enlisted and pledged their strength, their futures, and their very lives to stopping the madness that had erupted all around the globe.

Yet now, one year later, as I looked around and studied the people surrounding me on the train, as well as those I'd encountered in New York and in Chicago, I could sense a change. There was a different attitude in these first few weeks of 1943, an emotion permeating the air that hadn't been present during those months immediately following the day when we'd cast our lot with the rest of the Allies and joined the second worldwide war.

Perhaps it was because the joint British and American armies had Rommel trapped in Tunisia, or because the Russian Red Army had drafted almost every single Russian male at that point and had the Germans encircled at Stalingrad. Or perhaps, it was because in the Pacific, joint American and Australian troops were in the process of liberating New Guinea from Japanese occupation, and the Japanese, after multiple attempts to recapture Guadalcanal from the Marines, finally appeared ready to abandon that continuously fruitless effort.

There was hope where one year before there'd been discouragement. There was optimism where before there'd been doubt.

And there seemed to exist a new resolution as well.

At the same time that the _Union Builder_ made its way eastward across rivers and plains, through state after state that January of 1943, a conference was being held in Casablanca, Morocco-

##########

"The Casablanca Conference," Isabella interrupts. "Now that North Africa was basically under control, the leaders of the Allied nations – President Roosevelt from the U.S., Prime Minister Churchill from the U.K. and Generals Charles De Gaulle and Henri Giraud from the Free French forces – met in Morocco to carefully set the direction for the remainder of the war."

"Wow," Skye murmurs. "All the Allied heads in one place. There must've been a lot of planning and strategizing going on."

"Well, not _all_ the Allied heads," I correct, "and while there was definitely planning and strategizing, there were also power plays, jealousy and grudges. Stalin, for one, didn't attend, blaming the ongoing conflict in Stalingrad for his need to remain in the Soviet Union, though many believe his real reason for not attending was his fury with FDR and Churchill for continuing to put off the European invasion. And though you'll hear much about the cooperation and collaboration between the French Generals, De Gaulle and Giraud, the truth is that those two men couldn't stand each other and were constantly at one another's throats throughout the entire conference."

"How do you know that, Nana?" Skye wonders.

"Well, I received a letter from Masen that winter in which he relayed a story he'd been told by a fellow soldier who'd been present during a photo op at the conference. Apparently, both generals smiled and shook hands for the cameras, yet as soon as the flashes went off, they dropped the pretense and hurled a bunch of angry French words at one another. Masen wrote me asking for a translation."

Leah laughs. "And where you able to provide a translation, Mama?"

"Of course!" I cover my mouth and surrender to a fit of giggles much like the one I recall having when I received that letter. "Let's just say that neither generals' mothers would've been happy to know how they were featured in those _gentlemen's_ furious words to one another!"

The girls give in to peels of laughter, and I join in heartily.

"Anyhow, despite the planning, disputes, and possible fist fights occurring behind the scenes, everyone then and now can more or less agree that the most radical determination to come out of that conference was the fact that, for all intents and purposes, the Casablanca Conference sealed the fate of the Axis Powers."

"How, Nana?" Skye asks.

"By allowing for no other outcome other than unconditional surrender of the Axis."

"But…" she frowns, "of course they had to surrender unconditionally. What was so revolutionary about that conclusion?"

I give my great-granddaughter a patient smile. Of course it's hard for her to fathom. Despite her wide eyes and enthrallment, despite the undeniable fascination that's kept both girls here listening to me for hours now, this will always be history to them, a part of their nation's past, a lesson in world politics and love and struggle. Yet to me, this was once my life.

"Sweetheart, just one year earlier, when Hitler's triumph over the Soviet Union seemed imminent, when Rommel sped through North Africa on the wings of certain victory, and when Japan could almost taste the sweetness of conquest over the Pacific, unconditional surrender of the Axis was an almost unimaginable concept. At the time, the most that many dared to hope for was a fight which would bring about a peace negotiation that would've returned those conquered lands to autonomy but would've most likely left in power those responsible for the aggression in the first place."

"What? Left them in place to do the same thing all over again? Left them to face no consequences for their actions?" Skye growls with a fury, a sense of righteous indignation that's…so familiar.

"Most likely, Sweetheart – that is, if the tide hadn't begun to turn in early 1943. The agreement for unconditional surrender was a guarantee that the Axis would have no way out other than total and complete defeat, total annihilation of power - which also served as a motivator for the Soviet Union to continue fighting on the western front despite delays in a European invasion."

"Because it guaranteed them that the U.S. and Great Britain had every intention of invading Europe and forcing Hitler to surrender," Isabella says.

"Exactly." I nod my approval. "Now you're all catching on."

"So much insanity." Olivia shakes her head. "How did everyone deal with it day by day?"

"We just…woke up in the mornings, reminded ourselves to breathe, and-"

"Hold up, hold up," Olivia frowns. She bounces her left palm over the fingertips on her right hand, and I realize that she's been surprisingly quiet for a while.

"Nana, that's all extremely interesting. I swear it is. I mean, I never realized World War Two was so involved, but..." she breathes in and out anxiously – "what was going on with the copper-haired boy? That's what _I'd_ really like to know. You're telling us all about other events of the war, but what was _he_ up to? I mean, by the beginning of that year, he'd started flying his missions over Nazi-controlled Europe, right?"

"Yes," I sigh. "Yes, he had."

"And were our flyboys kicking ass all over the place over there?" Skye grins.

"Girls, being an airman himself, your dad has told me what it was like for the Eighth Air Force during the war," Isabella murmurs. "Despite Allied victories on other fronts, 1943 was a…difficult year for American airmen flying combat over Europe. The flying fortresses simply weren't as impenetrable as everyone had at first believed them to be. They were too big and heavy, and they had a hard time outrunning and outmaneuvering the lighter German Luftwaffe. And once the fortresses began raids over Germany, our fighter escorts simply didn't have the flying range to protect them. At first, the requirement for an airman to complete an overseas tour of duty was thirty-five missions, but that number was later dropped to twenty-five missions because…well, because…

"Because two out of three American airmen didn't survive their first 35 missions," I finish for her.

They're all silent.

"Nana," Olivia finally breathes, "did he keep journals while he was over there?"

I nod slowly.

"Did you…ever read them?"

Again, I give her a slow nod.

"Can you tell us some of it?"

I hold my sweet great-granddaughter's gaze for an endless moment, debating how much more to tell…

But she has a right to this. It's her history as much as anyone else's.

With a deep sigh, my eyes once more find the horizon before me, transporting me back to those days, weeks, months…I close my eyes and see the words inside the simple black journal, the words and thoughts of an American airman so far from home.

##########

**January 27, 1943**

He was dreaming of her, the way he did every night for those few precious hours when he actually rested. He knew it was a dream because the background was simply too nebulous, too indistinct. Her beautiful face was what was in the forefront of it all. There but not really there - not as clearly as he saw her in his true memory with her every feature drilled into his conscious better than his own name: the shape of her full mouth, the delicate upturn of her nose, the sparkle in her golden eyes. Her warm body lay beneath his, open and waiting for him over the supple bed. He allowed his hands to roam over her, to trace her perfect curves. Yet try as he might, he couldn't _feel_ the softness of her hips, the perfect roundness of her breasts, or the swell of her bottom, not the way he knew he once had, not the way he still felt her whenever he consciously closed his eyes and remembered.

It was sweet salvation and bitter torture remembering her night after night, wanting her day after day and knowing she was so far. Edward could almost hear himself groan in pleasure and agony.

"Lieutenant Cullen."

Now, they were in Forks. He knew it was Forks because of the meadow next to the river - the river where she'd once almost drowned, yet he'd plucked her out only to live and breathe for her. The river where they'd played as young children and where they'd kissed as young adults. The river that she'd once called her heaven. He hadn't understood her then, not the way he did now.

He hovered over her in this paradise of theirs, and she giggled.

"_Edward,"_ she sighed.

Did she know that her voice was pure music to his ears? That the sound of it was better than any sound he could've ever imagined? But now she was silent again, gazing at him with that open expression of love and adoration she'd never hid and he'd never fully appreciated, not truly, not the way he should've. So he reached out to tangle his hand in her hair, to play with the silky strands so that he could make her giggle again and moan in pleasure the way she always did when he touched her just the right way.

"Bella…"

"Lieutenant Cullen."

Someone pulled back his arm, and Edward was filled with an instant fury because he knew somehow - the way you just know these things in your dreams - that when he turned around, it would be Peter Vanderneck holding him back, trying to keep him from touching her, always wanting her for his own.

When he turned, it was indeed Peter holding on to him, but Jacob Black, dressed in his immaculately white naval uniform, was standing right behind.

"She's not meant for you. She's not."

He tried to turn away from Peter and Jacob and from the words that haunted him. And when he couldn't turn away, he tried to protest. But he could neither move nor make a sound.

"Lieutenant Cullen, it's 04:30."

Edward's eyes flew open.

"Lieutenant, you and your men have to report to the briefing room by 05:30."

The hand was still on his arm, and in the heavy darkness of the cold steel hut, reality quickly set in where a foggy and confused mind had no place.

"Thanks. We'll be at Combat Mess in twenty."

Though his mind was now clear, his voice still held the deep thickness of sleep. He was grateful when the squadron orderly removed his hand from his shoulder and moved on to wake the rest of the seven officers in the hut because though he was now wide awake, some unreasonable part of him still wanted to beat someone to a bloody pulp.

Instead, he sat up over his bunk, teeth chattering from the cold that the small furnace in the corner never quite eliminated, and he listened to the series of groans and complaints as one officer after another was woken.

"You up, Shaw?" he called out to his co-pilot, knowing that that one needed to be told more than once.

"I'm up, I'm up," Shaw moaned.

In his army-issued underwear, Edward made his way to the latrine and relieved himself before washing his hands in cold water and splashing his face. As he brushed his teeth, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and found tired red eyes staring back at him. It'd been a long night of cards and beer.

"What would you think if you could see me right now, Bella?" he murmured quietly.

With a sigh, he reached for the shaving cream and quickly passed the razor over his face. There hadn't been much growth since yesterday, but one of the many lessons he'd learned over the past year or so was that a smoothly shaved face made it a bit easier to deal with the oxygen mask for hours and hours.

With that routine completed in less than five minutes, Edward walked back to his bunk and dressed into the uniform he'd carefully laid over his trunk the previous night - just the uniform, not the flight suit yet. There was still time for that. And being the first one ready, he sat over his bed again and pulled out a Pall Mall from his pocket, sticking it in his mouth and lighting it with the zippo. Then he pulled in a long drag while he waited for the rest of his commissioned crew to be ready.

_Have I told you that I've picked up smoking? I know, I know. It's a bad stinking habit, but don't worry, sweetheart, I'll stop before I come home._

He hadn't told her he'd started smoking a few weeks ago, right after his first mission. But he figured he might as well let her know. He'd write her about it when he returned from today's mission and see what she said. Either way, whether she was okay with it or not, he'd already figured he'd stop before he went home. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed it or found any pleasure in the taste. It was simply a habit, a way to pass the time, something to relieve the tension in his hands when he wasn't flying, something to do with himself when he thought of her. But he didn't want the smell of smoke around him when he went home to her, so he'd stop.

But there was still a while to go for that.

"You fellas ready?" Edward looked down at his watch, the one Bella had sent him for Christmas, and saw that fifteen minutes had passed since he'd been woken up. Shaw was ready, having a smoke just like Edward, but Bader, his bombardier was still pulling up his pants, and Hunt, his navigator was still walking around in his underwear.

"Hunt, what in the name of all that's holy takes you so long?" Edward laughed, making the rest of the fellows laugh. "You've got the same equipment the rest of us do."

"'Cept maybe a bit smaller," Bader quickly interjected to chuckles from those who'd heard.

"I swear, my sister gets ready quicker than you!" Edward finished.

"But does your sister need her lucky socks? I can't find my lucky socks!" Hunt complained. "Can't fly a mission without those!"

"Just follow your nose," Shaw grinned, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he lay back against his bunk, waiting. "They can't be far. I can smell them shits from here."

There was more raucous laughter, and getting on his hands and knees to search under his bunk, Hunt came back up with a pair of army-issued, dirty stinkin' socks – along with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Found 'em!"

"Thank God," Edward muttered and stood, indicating that he was ready and his crew better be ready too. With a strange sense of loss, he took off his watch and placed it carefully inside his trunk, and for a long moment, his eyes fell over the carefully sealed letters tucked into the side of the trunk, the letters for her and for his family that he prayed they'd never have to read.

Despite how much he made fun of Hunt, airmen were a superstitious bunch indeed.

"I won't need those today," he muttered to himself and tore his eyes away from them, reaching for his G.I.-issued wristwatch instead. _That_ he would need today.

"Seriously, Hunt, can't you find a less…offensively-odored token of luck to bring with you? We've still got thirty-one sorties to go, and I'm already nauseous from thinking 'bout what those are gonna smell like come summer."

This sent his co-pilot and bombardier into more fits of laughter.

"Hey-hey there!" Hunt scowled, but the continued grin on his face indicated he was fine and used to the teasing on this particular subject. "We've come back safe and sound from the last four missions, haven't we?" he asked as he hurriedly threw on dirty socks with his clean long johns, pants, shirt and cap. "What's a little stink in exchange for staying safe from all that flak? Don't complain there, Lieutenant. We don't all have pretty little fiancées whose picture we can tape to the fort's panel for luck!"

Edward snorted, and with a shake of his head, he led his crew out of the hut.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward ate a big, bountiful breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs, pancakes, coffee, etc. And even though he enjoyed it, his stomach churned with the fear none of them would speak of. Even some guilt was there, guilt that here he was, being fed these wonderful breakfasts every few mornings - just in case it was his last breakfast – yet his girl and his family went through rationing and shortages while so much of what was served in these mess halls was wasted.

In his head, while they all ate in the relative silence that only occurred on these particular mornings, Edward composed another part of his next letter to Bella.

_We waste so much food here, sweetheart, while you all go without. A couple of days ago, Mac and I drove a truck out to the neighboring village's school and delivered a few crates of canned fruits and vegetables that have been sitting in a corner of the mess hall since I arrived here in November. You should've seen the joy and gratitude on those teachers' and kids' faces. One of the teachers told me they haven't seen a peach in years…_

Once the men were done eating, it was on to the briefing room, a hut similar to the one they slept in but larger and with chairs arranged theatre-style. They filed in single-file and filled the seats, crews all sitting together. On the opposite wall was a curtain, and Edward more or less knew what lay behind the curtain: The Map.

The Map held their destination. The Map said where they'd fly today. The Map held their fates in its folds. The Map had the power to take him away from _her_.

But he'd promised. He'd sworn. And he meant to keep that promise – even if he had to crawl back.

"Hey Cullen, what's the word from North Africa? Your brother met FDR last week?" one of the other officer's asked.

"Nah," Edward smiled. "FDR was in _Casablanca_. My brother is in _Tunisia_, which is further east, Walters. I've told you that."

"Learn your geography, Walters!" Another officer called out. "Thank fucking God I'm not flying with you as my navigator!"

And while everyone laughed, Edward's mind drifted to Masen.

He made deals with God every night for Masen.

_Take an arm…take two legs…take my sight…but don't take him._

The only reason he didn't broker his entire life was because of her…because how could he do that to _her_?

He'd promised. He'd _sworn_. And that right there was the entire reason he'd once tried to stay away from her. Because part of him always knew it'd come to this: to his having to make deals.

But Masen…every night he prayed for Masen.

"Well, I for one wouldn't mind meeting the President," Hunt said. "Maybe he'd give me one of those Distinguished Flying Crosses!"

"For what?" Mac yelled out from further back. "For knocking out a Messerschmitt with your shit-smelling socks?"

Everyone roared.

"Attention!"

The laughter and jokes immediately ceased, and all officers stood and saluted as the C.O. entered the room, walking with slow, purposeful strides to the front - to where The Map waited.

"At ease. Take your seats."

The C.O. said some words meant to put them at ease, offered up some jokes of his own, all of which Edward was sure impatiently went into every officer's right ear and out of his left ear because what they all wanted to know was what exactly lay behind the curtain, on The Map.

The introduction of the Operations Officer always tended to simultaneously end the impatience and bring the tension back into the room, especially once the curtain was finally pulled away, revealing colored strings in zig zag lines that marked the day's course from base to target.

"Gentlemen, today our target is Wilhelmshaven. We're flying right into Jerry's homeland!"

For the first time in this war, U.S. airmen were flying a mission into Germany.

Edward and the rest of the airmen cheered, the instinctual fear lodged in the pits of their stomachs momentarily replaced by elation at the thought of attacking the enemy on its own turf. A few fellas started humming the national anthem, and by the time the briefing was completed by the Intelligence and Weather Officers, Edward and his men were chomping at the bit to go. They donned their heated flight suits, flak vests, and aviator sunglasses. They replaced their officer's cap with their flak helmets. They threw on their A-2 leather aviator jackets and checked their parachutes and harnesses. They checked their pockets for their heated gloves and for their "escape kits," making sure they had their maps of Europe, German occupation currency, a compass and a couple of personal photos in case they were shot down and were lucky enough to meet with Resistance fighters who could forge identity documents. And then, finally, the jeeps arrived and transported them to their fortresses.

When Edward and his crew arrived, Mac was already on the tarmac in front of his own fortress, yelling out instructions to his enlisted men.

"Think this'll be a milk run today, Ed," he grinned, "like that last mission?"

On their previous mission a few days earlier, Edward and his squadron had targeted a locomotive works factory in Lille. Despite some heavy flak, they'd all been in and out with nothing more than some minor damage to a couple of the B-17s. Every fortress - and man - had blessedly returned to see another day.

It'd been a 'Milk Run' alright.

"Sure it will," Edward replied, anxiously jumping out of the jeep before it could come to a full stop. "We're gonna teach those Nazi fuckers a lesson!"

His language had also changed a bit over the last few months. He wouldn't tell her about that, though. He'd kick that habit as well when he went home to her.

"Woo-hoo!" Mac hollered. "A few more of these, and those asshole Krauts'll be begging us to go home! Please Mister American," he pretended to plead in what was an extremely bastardized German accent, "stop bombing us! Wir Kapitulation!" He snickered and held his hands up in mock surrender.

They kept up the joking, the encouragement, all to disguise the fact that the fear was returning, settling into the pits of their stomachs like heavy weights. Yet they both knew the fear was there. They _all_ knew the fear was there, and with four missions under their belts, they'd learned another secret: fear was good. Fear was what kept them on their toes. Fear was what kept them from getting _too_ confident.

Fear was what would bring him back to Bella.

He'd tried to deny the fear that first mission. He'd gone up there all arrogant and self-assured. On the way back, they'd lost two of four engines to flak, and when the Messerschmitt appeared behind them, they'd all said their prayers.

But Edward had sworn to her. He'd _sworn_ to _her_. Somehow, he maneuvered that large, clunky aircraft while the tail gunner had thrown all the ammo he had at that Messer…and they'd made it back.

It was another thing Edward would never tell Bella. He'd only write it in his journal, let his fear out in between pages that no one but he would ever read - all so that he could return to her someday soon.

After some more joking around, Mac gave Edward a much more sober look.

"Good luck up there, Cullen."

"Yeah, you too, Mac."

"We'll finish our poker game tonight, yeah?" Mac grinned as he grabbed onto the forward hatch of the ship so he could swing himself up. "I aim to win some of my money back!"

Edward grabbed onto his own ship, his _Woodland Nymph_. "Yeah, you'll really need good luck for that. I need that money to take my girl on a proper honeymoon once I get home and marry her!"

Chuckling heartily, both men boarded their respective fortresses. The enlisted had boarded a while earlier so that they could install their guns and load the ammo. And while Hunt laid out his charts, Bader checked the bomb loading while Shaw and Edward performed the pre-flight inspection.

Off in the horizon, Edward could see the sun coming up, a big bright shining sun, and his thoughts went to her, thousands of miles away. For the first time since the Great War, they were on war time back home, so Bella would still be sleeping for a few hours. She wouldn't be seeing this sun yet. Not just yet. His eyes fell to her picture, taped carefully to the dashboard. It was the one she'd sent him while he was still training in the U.S., the one of her behind the wheel of her convertible, her hair blowing in the breeze while she stared at the camera and laughed. Yet even through the black and white image in the picture, you could see the touch of sheepishness to her, as if as much as she enjoyed her car, she still wasn't sure she belonged behind its wheel.

_Where do I belong, Edward?_

_Here…in my arms…in my heart._

He smiled to himself, and as hundreds of engines simultaneously roared to life, the timing calibrated to the second, Edward reached out to touch her picture. The action was _his_ lucky charm. The one thing _he_ needed to do before taking them all on their next mission.

"True and loyal hearts, sweetheart. I won't forget my promise," he murmured. Across from him, Shaw was performing a similar ritual with the picture of his wife. In the back, Hunt was inhaling the pungent scent of his lucky socks. Bader was playing with the cross around his neck. And the gunners were performing their own routines.

Yes, they all needed their charms.

The take-off flare streaked its way into the sky, reminding Edward of those fireworks at Dwyer's Independence Day barbecues, year after year.

An image of his twelve-year-old self digging his fist into thirteen year-old Peter Vanderneck's face suddenly invaded his mind.

He shook the image out of his head, and prepared to head into formation.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: **_**Comin' in on a Wing and a Prayer**_** (1943) by The Song Spinners:**

_**Comin' in on a wing and a prayer  
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer  
With our one motor gone, we can still carry on  
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer**_

_**What a show! What a fight!  
Boys, we really hit our target for tonight  
How we sing as we limp through the air  
Look below, there's our field over there**_

_**With our one motor gone, we can still carry on  
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer**_

_**Comin' in on a wing and a prayer  
Comin' in on a wing and a prayer  
With our full crew on board and our trust in the Lord  
We're comin' in on a wing and a prayer**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	54. Chapter 53 - Spring, 1943

**A/N: Another Friday posting. I've been fighting a bad cold. It won a couple of battles, but I won the war!**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 53 – Spring, 1943**

Days turned into weeks. Weeks became months. Through our letters, Edward and I did our best to keep one another as involved in our lives as possible while the Allies and the Axis traded victories in all corners of the globe. And though we tried our best to keep the war in the periphery - to keep the focus of our correspondence on _us, _on the future we envisioned for ourselves after the war, after Edward's tour of duty was completed, on those parts of us that had remained more or less unaffected by the world-wide battles, the truth was that by now, the war _was_ us.

There was no part of us that was unaffected by what was going on in the world around us. As much as we tried to ignore it, the war was always there. While it was absent in the first couple of paragraphs within our letters, by the third or fourth paragraph, it had snuck its way into the forefront of our correspondence. It was unavoidable when giving Edward news about the family and home front: my being unable to visit Forks more than once a month because of gasoline rationing all over the nation, the chocolate Valentines cake I would've liked to send him had it not been for shortages on sugar and butter, or my having to painstakingly paint a straight black line down both of my legs now that I'd run out of nylons.

The war was also unavoidable as Edward and I wrote to one another sharing news about Masen. I felt Edward's pain as I read of his continued worries for his brother, whose regiment was now working its way from Tunisia towards an invasion of the Isle of Sicily.

Then of course, there were Edward's missions.

One mission had led to another. Three became four, and six became seven. Sometimes the foggy skies over Europe would keep him and his men grounded for days, and I'd be both grateful that he was safely on land and anxious for him to complete his tour, so he could return to me.

He kept the mission descriptions vague enough - an ammunitions factory bombed here, a railroad yard destroyed there, never telling me what actually went on up in the skies. But then he'd ask me to pray for certain men, and I knew it wasn't just one or two. There were ten men per crew, and almost on every mission, there were a handful of fortresses that didn't come back.

See, I knew the things he wouldn't tell me. Sometimes, my friends and I would pop into a movie theatre on a weekend afternoon, and the _Movietone_ Newsreel would show our airmen fighting the battle for European air supremacy through the eyes of reporters who'd tempt fate up in a flying fortress. The newspapers would report on the combined British and American air offensive against Germany, proudly reporting about oil fields and factories attacked and destroyed, yet it always mentioned the fortresses downed by the Nazis as merely an afterthought, a necessary part of the war.

But we knew. Despite all the fighting, despite the relentless bombing campaign, Fortress Europe was still buried under Nazi control. The Allied Air Forces were the only ones currently capable of sneaking in, and they were paying heavily for it.

So every night, I'd get on my hands and knees and pray for Masen and for those men for whom Edward would ask me to pray. I'd also pray for those he didn't mention.

Then I'd drop my head and outright beg for _him_.

But as I said, we as a nation would wake in the mornings and go on with our days and lives. My spring semester as a college student was loaded with freshman course requirements needed for my Biology/Pre-Veterinary Medicine degree. In addition, a couple of fellow pre-med students and I had volunteered with one of the local chapters of the Seattle Red Cross in its Hospital and Recreation Corp program, where we ran errands for the nurses and doctors. Sometimes, we'd be allowed to help with the injured men returning from the front lines: reading to them, helping them pen letters when they couldn't, or just being a patient, quiet listener. Being on the West Coast, most of the injured men in our hospitals were those returning from the Pacific with mangled and missing limbs, with heads wrapped in miles of gauze, crying and weeping. And those were the lucky ones. They were living-proof of those things the newspapers wouldn't talk about, living proof of what was really going on in the war.

From these men, I learned about the flak guns that would unleash their fury on our airmen, exploding like grenades in the air, unrelenting. I learned that despite the numerous machine guns placed so strategically on our much hailed B-17s, they were no match speed-wise for German fighters. I learned that once these fortresses were over German skies, out of range of escort fighters there to protect them, the fortresses' many machine guns may as well have been toy guns almost useless against Nazi Messerschmitts running circles around them.

But Edward wouldn't tell me about any of this. He told me about the football team they'd started on base. He told me most of their missions involved 'milk runs' over Vichy France. And he never forgot to ask me to pray for Masen.

OOOOOOOOOO

In early March, Rose came for a weekend visit with Baby MJ. Seven months old now, he was the handsomest baby boy you'd ever seen. His hair had started growing, and it was a dark shade of copper, just like his dad's and uncle's. Though he'd inherited blue eyes, his features were all Masen in that baby way that tends to mature and grow lean over time. He babbled and smiled and laughed out loud, and I was so in love with him.

It was a rare, sunny weekend, so we took him to the park, and with MJ in my arms, I carefully lowered myself over one end of the teeter-totter while Rose took the opposite seat. We rose up and then teetered down, and MJ laughed heartily on my lap, clapping his hands and warming my heart.

"Do you hear the way he laughs? That's Masen's laugh!" Rose chuckled. "It's that same rolling laughter that comes from somewhere deep within his belly. I've never heard anyone else in the family, other than Masen and he laugh like that," she mused.

I smiled. "May I keep him?"

Rose pushed off of the floor, her eyes on her son's reaction and the way his arms flapped up and down excitedly. "No. But when Edward comes back, you and he can make plenty of baby cousins for him."

"I hope they have the same copper hair as MJ."

"They probably will." She blew her son a kiss as he bounced happily on my lap. "It's Cullen hair after all."

"It's _Esme's_ hair."

"Same thing."

"I suppose," I said after a beat, watching the Seattle sun dance its rare rays over MJ's shiny mane.

"How many more missions does he have to go?" Rose asked.

I bit my lip and squinted my eyes in concentration, reciting aloud the calculations that constantly ran through my head.

"As of the last letter I received from him a couple of days ago, he'd flown ten missions, and that was a bit over a week ago, so he's probably flown a couple of more since then, which means he's got about twenty-three or so to go."

"And he's flying how many missions a month?"

"Usually between four and six, depending on the weather. Some weeks they fly missions back to back. Some weeks they don't fly at all due to heavy cloud cover and fog."

In my distraction, I'd stopped hoisting us up and setting us down, so Rose was now stuck a few feet off the ground. She had to jump off of her end when MJ began whimpering his protests at my inattention. Taking him from me, she stood in front of the sun, so I had to use my hand as a visor to look at her.

"So he may be back sometime the end of next summer."

Drawing in a deep breath, I hauled myself off of my seat and walked away, listening to the gurgling laughter of so many other little ones all around me. Rose walked by my side.

"I don't know, Rosalie. In his letters, he sounds anxious to be home, anxious to be with me, to start our lives _together_, but at the same time…"

"At the same time?" she prompted, stopping in front of me.

I reached out and tickled MJ's tummy. His ensuing laughter was almost enough to block out newspaper headlines and newsreels and the tales of those poor men at the hospital. When Rose reached out and cradled my cheek with one hand, I covered it with my own.

"How about Masen?"

"I was terrified after he and the Allies lost that battle at the Kasserine Pass in Tunisia, but I received a letter from him last week."

"Thank God," I breathed.

"Yes, but the Infantry is different from the Air Corps, Bella. The only way Masen will be back before this damn war is over is if he's hurt or..." She dropped her head, but not before I caught the way her bottom lip quivered.

"At the same time…" I continued my thought from before, "I don't see Edward returning from war…returning to a comfortable life back here at home while Masen is still over there…in combat."

She shook her head quickly and met my eyes again, feigning a smile. "They're brothers through and through. But let's change the subject." She resumed our walk, and I followed. "Guess what? I found a job! They've opened a new synthetic rubber factory up in Hoquiam. A couple of girls from town and I are going to car share."

"Car share? You mean like those posters suggest?" I grinned. "When you ride alone-"

"You ride with Hitler! Join a car-sharing club today!" she exclaimed, completing the War Board poster's quote for me.

We both laughed.

"It's a shame there was nothing available in town."

"Yes, but the pay is decent." She shrugged. "Carlisle and Esme are wonderful to me, Bella. And Masen sends home as much as he can, but supporting a family on a soldier's pay…it's not easy."

"And Baby MJ?"

"Esme will watch him."

I sighed and took the baby from her, holding him close to me and resting my forehead on his. His eyes closed sleepily, and my heart clenched.

"I wish I lived closer, then _I_ could take care of you," I told him.

"Now when would you do that," Rose smirked, "between school and your volunteer work?"

"I like to keep myself busy," I defended.

She waited until I met her gaze. "It's good to keep busy. Come on, let's go home. Can't put too much wear into these shoes with the shoe rationing now."

OOOOOOOOOO

I made us a simple dinner consisting of baked potatoes seasoned with salt and a piece of the precious farmer's cheese Esme had sent with Rose, alongside a salad of lettuce, cucumbers and green onions.

Rose crooked a brow my way as she mashed MJ's potato and mixed in the cheese.

"These potatoes were probably picked by those German POWs they've got all over the Midwest now," Rose said distastefully.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "They taste fine either way."

"I've heard they get treated almost as well as our own infantrymen."

"Well…" I pushed my food around my plate, "our military is just following the guidelines set by the Geneva Convention. Besides, maybe if we treat the German POWs decently, they'll treat any American POWs just as well."

"Fat chance," she scowled.

"Has Alice written?" I asked.

"Yes, she has," Rose smiled. "What do you think of the news?"

I grinned hopefully for one of the few pieces of truly good news we'd gotten in a while. "I hope it means things are improving between them. Otherwise, why would Jasper write to tell her he'll be in San Diego next month, and he'd like to see her? Has he been by the house?"

Rose shook her head. "No, but Esme and I have seen him in town a couple of times, and though he's still uneasy, he has stopped to greet us. He asked about Masen and Edward."

"I know Edward has written him."

Rose nodded. "I hope he's stopped the…" She pretended to lift an invisible bottle to her mouth and made chugging sounds.

"For his and Alice's sake, I hope so too."

OOOOOOOOOO

_March 20, 1943_

_MJ is so beautiful, Edward. He looks so much like Masen, and he looks a little like his handsome uncle too. Yet he's different as well. His eyes are blue, yet they're not the same blue as Rose's or as your dad's. I wish you could see it in the picture I'm sending you._

_I look at him and wonder what our babies will look like, how these combined genes I'm learning about in Biology will work to create someone so entirely a part of us yet so completely his or her own person. I want our children to have your hair color, that copper that catches the sun's rays and transforms into golds and reds. You should see how the sun highlights little MJ's curly strands. Brown is just so ordinary; though, I wouldn't mind them having my father's eyes. They're similar to mine, but I believe, much deeper and richer. Though blue eyes are also common in your family and mine – Mother has blue eyes. I suppose most any eye color is possible for our children. Most of all though, I do hope for green._

_I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself._

_Edward, I really don't care about eye color or hair color; I just care about them being ours – yours and mine. I dream of our future. I dream of the day when you'll be back here with me, hopefully in just a few months. We'll marry and make up for so much lost time, and we'll make love every morning, noon and night. I'm not ashamed to admit I still dream of our night together. Sometimes, it seems it was years ago, yet sometimes, I still feel you inside me, so warm and so strong._

_Either way, everything else can be decided once you're back home. Depending on when you return, I may be in New York – which would be wonderful if you returned through Fort Dix in New Jersey, which is where I know many of our airmen are processed upon returning to the States. I've agreed to arrive in New York in late May for Lauren's wedding and remain through the end of June. Short of agreeing to hand over our firstborn to Papa Phil, it was the only way he'd allow me to return to Forks in July to begin my summer internship with your dad. It seems I'm destined to travel from one coast of the country to the other in the summers, regardless of what's going on in the world._

_It really was so great of your dad to allow me to assist and observe him in his practice for the summer. Papa Phil attempted to convince me to spend the entire summer in New York. He said I could intern for him over the summer since he's already taught me so much of the railroad business, but I once again reminded him that the railroad simply isn't what I want. Why are he and Mother always trying to change me, Edward? Am I really that imperfect?_

_That's one of the many reasons why I love you and your family so much. You've always just accepted me the way I am._

_I think three children would be wonderful, just as your mom and dad had…_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_April 4, 1943_

…_They're still pushing Rommel and his Afrika Korps towards the ports of Tunisia and Byzerta, but the bastards refuse to surrender! They say Hitler himself has forbidden Rommel to surrender. Meanwhile, Masen is in the thick of it all. It kills me, Bella. When are they going to give the hell up? They're backs are literally to the wall over there. There's nowhere left for them to go but into the sea. Yet they keep on fighting and Masen has to patch up all those poor unfortunate bastards._

_Never mind all that, Bella. I love the picture of you and my nephew. Thanks so much for sending it. You're right, he does look like Masen, but there is something different about him as well. I don't see any resemblance to Rosalie at all, which must really stick in her craw, so it must be something from an earlier generation._

_But as for how many babies I want, sweetheart, I want as many as you want, and since I plan to spend hours, days and entire nights making those babies with you, I suppose I better be ready for a house full. We'll have to wait until you're done with your schooling though. I can imagine your stepfather's reaction if I put a baby inside you before you're done with college. The truth is, it's not his ire that would stop me. We hear the news of you girls doing so much back home while we're over here, and I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I'm even proud of my stupid sister, and I sincerely hope that you're right, and that Jasper has come to his senses. I confess I haven't been very pleasant to him in my letters, which is probably why he's never written back._

_I think of you so much, Bella. We completed our 17th sortie yesterday; I'm almost halfway there now. Your picture is there with me on every mission. My navigator still hasn't changed his socks. I'm telling you, he's killing us, and as much as a couple of the other guys complain and ask me to put my foot down with him, I won't take away his lucky charm._

_Speaking of lucky charms, a few of the other crews look at us as veterans! Can you believe that? Our entire fortress is looked on as a lucky charm! They all request flight status next to us during our mission briefings, asking to fly next to the Woodland Nymph or the Memphis Belle! I told you about that ship, right? She's only a handful of missions or so ahead of us, and if all goes well, she and her crew will be flying home sometime in early June._

_Bella, don't change your summer plans for me, sweetheart. I think it's great you'll be in Forks for a couple of months. It makes me think of when we were kids and you'd come down for the summer, when things were just so…normal and perfect._

_But if you decide you want to spend the summer in New York with Phil and the railroad business, that's fine as well. I just have one question: will Peter also be working with your stepfather this summer?_

_Regardless of where you are when I come home, I'll come looking for you, Bella. You just keep on living your life, and don't worry about what anyone else wants or thinks. You ARE perfect, Bella. You are._

_I've got one more bit of news to share with you all back home: after fifteen successful sorties, I was promoted to First Lieutenant…_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_April 7, 1943_

_How are you, Little Sister? I write those words, and I laugh to myself. You're a college girl now, not so little anymore. Though in my mind, you'll always be this little thing with all that long hair, falling in the river time after time, not knowing that dogs can swim. Better not tell your fellow vet students about that._

_My brother writes me letters full of so much pride in you. Says you're doing so well in school. While we were in London together last year, you were all he could talk about. Surrounded by hundreds of years of culture, yet you were all he could see._

_I'll tell you something, but don't go getting mad at him: he used to pretend like he didn't care a hoot about you, like you were this annoying "Little Girl," but I knew better. He just needed to grow up a bit._

_Thanks so much for the picture of my wife and son. My Rose is still as beautiful as ever. As for my son, well, I haven't seen a more handsome boy in my life. Looks just like his pop, yes he does. I can't wait to meet him. I want to thank you for being such a good friend to them both. Rose tells me about all the things you get for the baby and well, I'm not too proud to say thanks for that as well._

_Things over here are the same as ever. I'm sure you hear about it all the time, so I won't bore you with details. Believe it or not, there are some nice-looking mountains over here, and in those rare instances when all's quiet on the front, when for one moment, it all ceases…for that one quick, glorious moment, I'm back home._

_I miss you all so much._

_I see some crazy things sometimes. There are supposed to be rules, but there are no rules in war. Justice is simply a matter of who can garner the most sympathy. Yet when I see our bombers overhead, when I see their wings soaring and hear those engines in the sky, my heart rumbles with pride, Bella. I imagine my little brother flying over there in Europe, and I think to myself, "Give 'em hell, Ed."_

_All my love and affection._

_Cpl. Masen Sebastian Cullen_

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: **_**Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition**_** (1943) by Kay Kyser**

_**Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition  
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition  
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition  
And we'll all stay free**_

_**Praise the Lord and swing into position  
Can't afford to be a politician  
Praise the Lord, we're all between perdition  
And the deep blue sea**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend, guys!**


	55. Chapter 54 - Blue Stars

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts, guys. I haven't been able to respond to reviews for the previous chapter, but I'll try to get to them this weekend. Sometimes I have to choose between review replies and updating. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

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**Chapter 54 – Blue Stars**

In late April, I visited the Cullens for the Easter holiday. On Sunday, we strolled into a fully packed church while the early morning sun shone its rays through the stained-glass windows and sent prisms of scattered jewels raining amongst pews and assembled worshipers.

The reverend preached of the risen Lord and of the absolute righteousness of the Allied cause. Meanwhile, my own thoughts scattered about the church restlessly, much like the kaleidoscopic of colors streaming in. My eyes landed on the red and white service flag hanging proudly next to one of the multi-hued glass windows. As did most of the families of Forks, Carlisle and Esme had one of those flags hanging from their window, but the one in the Cullen household had only two navy-blue stars in its center, while this one had forty-six stars: four rows of ten blue stars…and one row of six gold stars.

After the service, we gathered for a social fundraiser held in the church's basement, and after about an hour of socializing, Esme was eager to return to her grandson and Rose, who'd both stayed home since the baby was just getting over his very first cold. We said our goodbyes, and as a smiling Esme looked off to the side, I watched in alarm as all the blood drained from her face. Her eyes quickly flashed to Carlisle, who in turn met her gaze with the same apprehension in his eyes. She took hold of his forearm, and both of them walked as if traversing a field of landmines to a couple about their same age, dressed in black and wearing matching somber expressions.

"Tom, Laura." Carlisle extended his hand to them.

"Laura," Esme murmured, wrapping her arms around the woman. "How have you been?"

Tom and Laura Mitchell.

I'd last seen them at one of the events at Papa Phil's house when I was a young girl in Forks for the summers.

Tom and Laura Mitchell, whose only son, Garrett, had left for training as a gunner with the Air Force a few short months after Edward.

Tom and Laura Mitchell, whose son was now represented by a gold star on the church's service flag.

Mrs. Mitchell pulled away from Esme's embrace, and it took all my effort not to flinch at the haunted look in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was a dull monotone.

"We received the official letter from the War Department a few days ago. We were still hoping…even after the Reverend delivered the telegram…but he was shot down over Germany, and…he served well though," she nodded vigorously. "His C.O. assured us he served very bravely."

"I'm sure he did," Esme murmured.

There was a long silence.

"You do remember Bella, don't you?" Esme asked. "Philip and Renee Dwyer's daughter."

Mrs. Mitchell blinked and turned her blank gaze towards me. "Of course. You're all grown up, Bella. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you, Mrs. Mitchell. I'm…so sorry."

"Esme told us of your engagement to Edward," she said, ignoring my condolences. "Congratulations, sweetheart."

"Thank you."

The ensuing silence was broken by Mr. Mitchell. "Thank you, Carlisle, for…your help."

"Yes, and thank you, Esme, for the delicious casseroles," Mrs. Mitchell added with a feint smile.

"Please, don't mention it," Esme responded. "It was the least we could…" She trailed off, and when Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell abruptly turned and walked out of the basement, no one called after them.

OOOOOOOOOO

Jasper had begun coming around the Cullens' house again. He came for dinner that evening, a delicious if somewhat tense affair now that we knew the reason for Jasper's trip to see Alice earlier in the month.

After our meal, Jasper and Carlisle went outside while Esme, Rose and I cleaned up. When Carlisle came back in, Jasper remained out on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette.

Drawing in a breath, I opened the screen door, and allowed Sandy to run out ahead of me. In the darkness, I could see her and Gus wrestling off their holiday meal.

"Edward says he's been smoking as well," I shared as I took a seat next to him, wrapping my shawl around me.

Jasper smiled at the nebulous horizon. "Nasty habit a lot of us have picked up lately. But I suppose it's better than some other habits."

Having noticed at the dinner table that his eyes didn't seem as glazed and bloodshot as they'd looked when I'd last seen him, I was pretty sure I understood what "other" habits he meant.

"So…when are you leaving?"

He sighed. "The Quartermaster Corps rep said that as soon as they have a place for me, they'll let me know. They've got an overabundance of dogs needing to be trained for overseas service, but not enough centers or trainers to work with them. They're looking into a couple of possibilities for me, most likely the center in Texas."

"You've always been so good at training dogs, Jasper. I'm not surprised they want you, but…Texas. It's so far away from here."

He snorted. "Really, Bella? Masen is in Africa, and Edward is in Europe."

Yes, it was true. Yet the difference was that Masen and Edward had inseverable ties to Forks and to the community. When they returned, there was no doubt as to where they'd be returning…or who they'd be returning to. Without Alice here, Jasper had no such ties. If he left, there was no guarantee he'd return, and then how would he and Alice fix things?

"I meant relatively speaking."

He turned his gaze my way, dropping his cigarette a few steps below us and stomping it out with his heavy boot.

"Is this your way of punishing her?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Bella, my name's gotten around this part of the state as a decent dog trainer, if nothing else. The Dogs for Defense Program only has one other center here on the West Coast, in California, and they're overwhelmed. This is my way of doing something for _myself_, Bella. What else am I supposed to do, sit here on my laurels, waitin' for her with arms wide open?" He dug a finger into his chest. "This is _my_ chance to do something. I've got just as much of a right to take it as she does, even if it does take _me_ far away – relatively speaking!"

"I'm not disputing that," I conceded. "You have every right to do something for yourself. But what if you could do it from here?"

He was shaking his head before I even finished. "From here, waiting for her like a patient little husband. Bella, I'm tired of working at the mill with all the other no-account men. I'm tired of training dogs to sit on their haunches next to useless air raid wardens or to bark their behinds off while guarding war plants that won't ever be raided! I know this is hard for a little rich girl like you to understand, someone whose life has always been simple and easy, but _I_ need to be useful!" he hissed. "I need to feel like I'm doing something important! Like I'm contributing in-"

"I understand the need to be useful, Jasper," I said heatedly. "Believe me I do. I understand what it feels like to want to contribute, to do all you can in the limited ways you can, so don't speak to me like I'm just sitting in classrooms all day and completely forgetting that there's a war going on! Don't speak to me like I'm happy to sit off to the side while the one I love is off risking his life!"

My chest heaved with indignation. In Jasper's defense, he did look away, shame coloring his expression.

"I apologize, Bella. I didn't mean to imply-"

"Yes, you did. We've always been friends, but you've also always seen me as different from the rest of you."

"I suppose I have," he admitted, "what with your lofty ideas and your travelin' back and forth and your _college_."

"Jasper, I had nothing to do with her leaving."

"I know you didn't," he said after a pause. "I do know that."

"I didn't come out here to argue. I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal…for me?" he grinned ruefully, giving me a sidelong glance.

"Yes. And now I'll probably just confirm all your previous thoughts of me, but I'm willing to risk that if it'll help the war cause." _And if it'll help Alice_, I thought silently to myself. "I've asked Papa Phil if he'd allow his house to be used for the Dogs for Defense Program in order to assist with the war effort. He and Mother haven't used the house for almost three years now, even before we entered the war. He's agreed as long as someone responsible is put in charge of the program here in Forks. Jasper, that house is plenty big enough, and with a few modifications and kennels, I believe it would serve the purpose just fine."

"Bella…" Jasper snorted, shaking his head back and forth. "The Dogs for Defense Program has grown a lot bigger than anyone ever expected it to. Do you know that when the program first started about a year ago, they estimated about 200 dogs for the program and only planned to use them for sentry and war plant guard duty? Right now, they've got about four training depots around the country, with thousands of dogs in each and more dogs delivered every day. People all over the country are willing to donate their dogs for the war effort. You hear the radio announcements, Bella. They're sending these dogs everywhere, including to the fronts in Europe and the Pacific. We'd be talking dozens if not hundreds of dogs that would need to be evaluated for the program."

"Then you'd better get working, Jasper. You'll need to find volunteers, organize and plan, build forecasts, raise funds, and make any necessary modifications to the house to set up the program. If you need business advice, I can talk to Papa Phil for you. If you need help raising money, you've got Carlisle, who can help through the war production board. Any help you need, you know we'll all pitch in, but in the end, Jasper…in the end, this would be _your_ project - _your_ way of doing your part. And I know you're probably thinking that it's so easy for me to suggest all this, that it was so easy for me to simply open my mouth and ask Papa Phil for yet another favor-"

"No, Bella," he cut me off. "No, I wasn't thinking that." He looked off into the distance. "I guess I've always been better with dogs than with humans. My wife…my wife was the only girl I ever really knew how to talk to, and even there…"

"Jasper, this isn't about you or about Alice or about me or anyone else in this town," I lied. "It's about helping our boys overseas in every way we can. If it's not truly a matter of leaving Forks, if it's a matter of doing your part, then think about it. If you need to leave, then leave. This won't be charity either. Other than the use of the house, you won't be getting a cent from Dwyer Industries."

He held my gaze for a long time. Gus and Sandy returned to us, panting.

"You've grown into a tough little cookie, haven't you?"

"Jasper, I'm just…" I sighed, "doing what I can. So when will you be speaking to the Quartermaster rep again?"

"There will actually be a rep meeting me in Seattle in a couple of days."

"That quickly?" I frowned. "At least give it some-"

"Not for the training job, Bella. The rep for that said he'd get in contact with me in a couple of weeks, and I promise you I'll think about your stepfather's…generous offer." He dug the tips of his fingers into Gus's scalp, making Gus lick his face in appreciation. "I'm donating Gus to the war program."

"What? _Why?_"

"He's the perfect candidate for overseas duty, Bella. He's young, good-tempered, intelligent, the right kind of breed. It's like he was born for the war."

I reached out and stroked Gus's soft, short black mane.

"I'll be going down to California for a few weeks to learn how to sort through potential candidates for the program. They've got to make sure all trainers are following the same guidelines. But I'm not allowed to train my own dog."

It wasn't until the cold wind blew and froze the moisture on my face that I realized I was crying.

"Does Alice know about Gus?"

"No. Not yet. I'm going to write her tonight to tell her."

I nodded, hugging Gus close to me, burying my face against his strong neck. Sandy must've grown jealous because she got up from where she'd been lying at my side and using her nose, tried to nudge Gus and me apart. Yet, Sandy was an older dog, no longer as strong as Gus, and for once, I was grateful for her age. There was only so much I was willing to sacrifice for the war cause.

"What do you think they'll have him do?"

"They're using them mostly in the Pacific at the moment, as sentries, scouts, messengers…mine detectors."

My eyes squeezed shut at the image my mind conjured. "You'll be great over there boy," I whispered in his ear. "You'll be such a good boy."

Gus wagged his tail furiously. For a long while, I simply held him. Then I gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and stood up.

"Let me know what you decide in respect to the house, Jasper, so that I can let Papa Phil know. Good night."

OOOOOOOOOO

In mid-May, Rose received another letter from Masen. The joint American and British forces had finally entered the city of Byzerta on the northern coast of Africa. Five months after launching Operation Torch, the Allies had succeeded in pushing the Germans off of the continent.

Now, Corporal Masen and his regiment awaited their next orders: return to England…or join in the invasion of Sicily.

And as of the last letter _I'd_ received, Edward had completed 20 missions.

In the meantime, unbeknown to most Americans, troops were already practicing amphibious landings on bases in California, preparing for the largest, most ambitious invasion the world had ever known.

OOOOOOOOOO

_Bassingbourn, England_

_May 17, 1943_

_My Dear Bella:_

_Today is a special day for a few reasons._

_The first and most important reason is because if all has gone well (which I'm sure it has) today you'll have completed your first year of college. You know me with words, so I can't properly describe just how proud I am of you. I just wish I could be there to show you how I feel, to kiss my college girl 'til she couldn't breathe._

_Jasper wrote me. Now, I won't deny that I was glad to finally hear directly from him, but that's not what made his letter special. He told me what you're helping him do. He says you two quarreled some, and he told me the things he said to you and that he feels badly about them. In my letter back to him, I've let him know exactly how lucky he is that I'm not there to ring his neck. But at the same time, I'm glad to hear that he may be pulling his head out of his behind. I know it bothers you, Bella, but I won't interfere in his issues with my sister. Nonetheless, I do know that the way he was handling things wasn't going to get him anywhere good._

_Sweetheart, I know you don't like asking your stepfather for favors; therefore, I know how hard this must've been for you. I hope it helps for you to know that I think you did a wonderful thing. It'll be such a help to so many, never mind that I know you also did it for Alice. And yes, it may also give Jasper a purpose, which he so desperately needs. If I had you near me right now, I'd kiss you so soundly. I'd tell you over and over just how special and smart you are so that you'd never forget it. No matter what ever happens, no matter what anyone may say, please don't ever forget that._

_Jasper also told me that Gus will be going overseas somewhere with that Dogs for Defense Program. We've got a couple of Alsatians here on base whose job it is to periodically check the fortresses for signs of sabotage. They're good, obedient dogs, just like Gus. I know you must be upset about it, but he'll be okay, Bella. He's always been a smart dog, and I guess now even our pets have to do their part._

_The Memphis Belle only has a couple of missions left. There's a rep from the Office of Media Relations here interviewing the crew, and they're already planning a party for her last mission. They don't seem to understand that we don't like talking about these things, not out loud and certainly not to a bunch of penguins who don't know a thing about what it's like to be up there. Though, I'll be honest with you. We're a pretty excited bunch right now. I've even heard told that Glenn Miller will be making an appearance if there's a party._

_The Woodland Nymph has a dozen more missions to go. I just wish I knew what was going on with Masen_. _It's frustrating not knowing where they'll send him next; though, with the situation in North Africa easing, I'm hoping he'll be back in England before my tour is up so that I can see him one more time before heading home. I won't lie; it'll be hard going home, leaving him here._

_Enjoy your week in Chicago. Say hi to your dad for me. I know you're not looking forward to your stepsister's wedding. You know how much I wish I could be there with you. I'll address this letter to New York, and I'll continue writing you there until you tell me otherwise._

_Loyal and true to you always,_

_Lt. Edward A. Cullen_

OOOOOOOOOO

In late May of 1943, after having successfully completed my first full year of college, I took the long train ride back east. My stepsister, Lauren Mallory Dwyer was about to become Mrs. Justin Sterlington in one of the biggest society weddings of the past decade, and I was required to be part of the festivities.

Now, as far as the Dwyer-Sterlington wedding party was concerned, there was no war going on - no silk shortages, no rationing of fabric. Lauren Dwyer was getting married, and there was no way in hell she would go without. Therefore, on an early Saturday afternoon with the sun shining brilliantly overhead, I stood in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral holding up Lauren's train in my long, pink silk bridesmaid's gown.

Now, it might seem as if I had a relatively simple job, but I assure you that it was anything but. Lauren's wedding dress was hugely ornate and massively heavy, with a lace train that stretched for miles and was matched only by the equally lengthy veil. Oh, I won't deny the dress's beauty nor the fact that Lauren looked quite pretty in it. Yet…once inside the cathedral, as she stood at the altar smiling up at her soon-to-be husband in his pristine naval whites that only his wealth had earned him, I couldn't help thinking to myself that her smile appeared more smug than happy, and that despite their simpler and more modest designs, Rose and Alice had made much more elegant and happier brides.

As the priest recited the words that would bind Lauren and Justin together until death or a better offer did them part,

"Do you, Justin Thomas Sterlington, take this woman, Lauren Mallory Dwyer…"

my mind drifted to a wonderful summer past, back before the realities of life and war had set in:

"_I'll make a prediction,"_ Masen had said on that summer day long ago as we played in the Dwyer pool. _"In ten years, Rose and I will be married with four babies, Peter will be married to a rich heiress, Lauren will be married to a Duke or some such, Alice will be married to a picture movie actor, Jessica will be married to a traveling circus clown, Bella will be in college learning how to save the world, and while she does that, Edward will be the one married to…"_

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

OOOOOOOOOO

The reception was held at the Waldorf-Astoria, the same hotel where I'd first met Papa Phil so long ago. And like the ceremony, no expense was spared for the party. As we waited for the bride and groom to make their first appearance as husband and wife, we were entertained by a wonderful band who was a great favorite on the radio at the time. Waiters in tuxedos provided us with the finest champagne, served in the most brilliant crystal flutes, and they passed out hors d'oeuvres of shrimp and caviar served on silver platters.

My bridal party partner was one of Justin's first cousins, a man whose name I honestly can't even recall anymore: a veritable Mr. So and So.

Now, Mr. So and So was also dressed in Navy whites, which with a politician father, I strongly suspected he'd earned in a similar fashion by which Justin had earned his. Mr. So and So was also just as pompous as his cousin and insisted on flirting with me despite my constant reminders that I was engaged.

Peter Vanderneck was there as well. He'd missed the ceremony and arrived for the reception, and I was filled with righteous indignation when I caught sight of him. Not only because he was dressed in uniform - an officer's Air Force uniform, to add insult to injury – but because he was an affront, I fully believed then, to all airmen who'd earned their commissions through hard work and sweat.

"Penguin, indeed," I muttered to myself, nursing a flute of champagne while watching the celebration from the safety of my seat.

I kept as much distance from Peter as possible, not even bothering to greet him despite the manners I'd been taught at Miss Tudor's. The only time I ventured away from the table and onto the dance floor was later in the evening at Papa Phil's insistence. He'd danced the requisite father-daughter dance with Lauren and then came for me.

"You're awfully quiet this evening," Papa Phil noted as we moved across the dance floor. "Do you plan on hiding at the table all night or is there somewhere else we should direct the search party to when it's time to leave?"

I chuckled. "I'm not hiding. It's just…" I looked around at the room full of the city's elite, there to celebrate the joining of two people in sickness and in health, for better or for worse – even if they were two spoiled, arrogant people. "It's Lauren's day, and I'm quite sure she has no desire to share the spotlight."

Papa Phil snorted. "You know your sister very well. Yet, I don't think that's something you need to worry about. Lauren is quite capable of keeping the spotlight on herself." We both looked over to where my stepsister stood in the middle of the ballroom's dance floor, demanding the attention of every single society photographer in attendance.

"Now take my picture here! Make sure you get the entire dress! No, no! Not from that angle!"

Papa Phil shook his head, an amused grin on his face. "Your sister's antics aside, I feel as if there's something truly bothering you this evening, Isabella."

"Perhaps I'm simply feeling…" - I sighed - "nostalgic."

"My dear, you're at least two decades too young for nostalgia."

Again, I chuckled, and though he chuckled in return, he failed to say the words I longed to hear from him or from any of the other few people I trusted at the time: promises and assurances that everything would all be alright and that someday soon…we'd be celebrating _my_ wedding.

We danced until the song ended and another one we both enjoyed took its place. Afterwards, I returned to the Dais and watched the businessmen and their wives, the politicians and their wives, and the celebrities and their wives move across the dance floor.

"Say, beautiful." Justin's cousin – Mr. So and So – took a seat at the table, placing himself directly in front of me and blocking my view of the band and dance floor. "How's about I give you a spin, and we make every fella and gal in here jealous?"

I rolled my eyes, grimacing at the stench of way too much champagne that invaded my nostrils with his proximity.

"Thank you, but no."

"Come on, doll," the dullard insisted. "You've been playing hard to get all night," he grinned lewdly, his eyes roaming up and down my frame, "turning down every fella that asks you for a dance and flashing that sad little ring of yours. But I've got your number."

"I said no."

"You do realize who I am, don't you? My father is running for Congressman! Between Justin's father and mine, our family has enough power and dough to run the entire nation! Why, once we win the war-"

"Once _we_ win the war? What exactly are _you_ doing to help win the war?" I asked, raising a brow.

"What?"

"Other than parading around in your immaculate uniform, what are you doing to win the war?"

He frowned, as if completely taken aback by the question. "Getting dirty isn't my job, Doll. I leave that to the peons and peasants. Now come on!" He reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me up by force.

"Ow! I said no! Now leave me alone!" I pulled away from him.

Papa Phil was quickly by my side, and I could see Demetri and Alec, our drivers who doubled as bodyguards, approaching quickly.

"What's going on here?" Papa demanded.

"It's alright, Papa," I reassured him as calmly as possible. "Mr. So and So was just about to move on."

"Mr. So and So, I suggest you leave my daughter alone before you find yourself thrown out of this ballroom."

Unfortunately, Mr. So and So was a lot more inebriated than I'd initially given him credit for. He scowled my way, and in his drunken state completely missed Papa Phil and the two large men now behind me. He swayed unsteadily to his feet.

"Boy, you're a vain and feisty little bitch," he laughed. "Your sister warned me, said I shouldn't even bother, but I've met prissy girls like you before, and I plan to have you pressed up against a wall with your skirt riding up, moaning my name before the night's-"

The fist suddenly in his mouth prevented him from finishing that thought. Someone screamed when his head hit the floor. I believe it was Lauren.

It took me a couple of seconds to realize that Papa Phil was still by my side, and that Demetri and Alec were still behind me, so none of them had been responsible for Mr. So and So's current predicament. Instead, Peter stood over Mr. So and So's now prostrate form, his hands still balled in front of him. While Bedlam erupted all around us, he met my gaze.

The groom showed up to help his cousin get to his feet.

"You get your filthy cousin out of here now," Papa Phil demanded, "before I have one of my men throw him into the river."

"Yes, sir."

Lauren cried on Papa Phil's shoulder.

"She's ruined my wedding!"

I turned away from Peter's gaze. "Papa, may I please leave?"

"Isabella, Mr. So and So will be the one to leave. You don't have to go anywhere."

"Daddy! Please! Let her leave before she makes things worse!"

"Papa, please. I just want to go home!"

"Isabella and Lauren-"

"Let her go, Daddy! She's ruining everything!"

"I'd like to leave, Papa."

"Daddy!"

"Papa!"

"Very well, Isabella. But have Demetri drive you home. He can come back for us later."

"Yes, sir." I quickly hurried out, picking up my pace when I heard my name called.

"Isabella! Bella, please! Just talk to me!"

I picked up my skirt and broke into a sprint, running towards the waiting car.

OOOOOOOOOO

_I don't want to complain. Not to you, my love. I can't even imagine what's really going on over there beyond the things you tell me, and I know you don't need the extra burden. But God, if I don't share this with you, who can I share it with? We're supposed to tell one another everything, aren't we? "Tell me everything," we said to each other. "The good and the bad." I'm trying to be strong, Edward, but how strong am I expected to be? How long will I be expected to pretend that this separation isn't breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces with each passing day?_

_Is it wrong of me to tell you that Peter continues to pursue me at every chance he gets? Is it wrong of me to admit that I was miserable at the wedding because you weren't there? Is it wrong to tell you that some irrational part of me holds you responsible for the entire scene with Mr. So and So? That the same irrational part is angry with you for not being the one to defend me when he got fresh or when Peter chased me or even when Jasper accused me last month of being nothing more than a little rich girl? Should I not tell you these things while you're over there and can do nothing about them?_

_I'm angry, and I'm terrified senseless, Edward. With every day that passes, with every mission successfully flown that brings you closer to me, my fear simply grows and multiplies. You want to be in two places at once: here with me and over there defending your country, remaining as close to your brother as possible, and I'm terrified that I know which one will win out in the end because I know you, Edward. I know how you think._

_Yet, I'm expected to say nothing. I'm expected to send you letters full of happy tales, of good news, letters of encouragement and assurances that I'm holding up just fine here._

_I don't know what I'm writing, Edward. Please, just disregard most of this letter. It was a horrible day from beginning to end, watching two people who know nothing of love and loyalty exchange vows while you and I are ages away from exchanging ours. I'm fighting an irrational desire right now to open my window and scream at the top of my lungs at the injustice of it all._

_God, I miss you so much. None of this makes sense. Nothing makes sense without you._

_But please don't worry for me, Edward. I'll be okay. I'm being stupid and emotional, but I'll close my eyes and imagine us together, and I'll hold on to the memories we made on our final night together. Then I'll be okay._

I signed and sealed the letter, and then I lay in my bed and fought back the tears because I'd be brave. I'd be strong. And when morning came, I ripped the letter into one hundred tiny pieces and threw it in the garbage before writing another letter that completely excluded the entire scene with Mr. So and So and Peter, a letter that assured Edward that I was, in fact, doing perfectly well.

OOOOOOOOOO

Those first couple of weeks in New York City passed relatively quickly, and then the third week became the fourth, and I hadn't received a letter from Edward since my second week there.

One afternoon, Tanya came into the city and attempted to distract me.

"You just need to stop thinking about it, and a letter will come!"

Her reasoning made no sense to me, yet Cary Grant was in a new movie where he played a draft dodger, and Tanya believed this to be the perfect distraction.

Unfortunately, the Newsreel that played before the movie was about the RAF and Air Force's Operation Pointblank, which was the daily and nightly onslaught on Germany's industry. The newsreel plainly showed aircraft - British, German and American - falling from the sky and exploding into fiery balls of fire.

I barely made it out of the theater without losing my lunch.

Even Tanya was visibly shaken by the time we returned to the Riverside Drive penthouse. Yet before I could give in to the tears and hysteria I'd been trying to hold in for months, Mrs. Lewis held out a letter.

"_Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I haven't written. It's been…a difficult week. These missions we're flying are long and, God Bella, I haven't even been able to close my eyes for the past few days without having nightmares. My only salvation is my thoughts of you, yet I haven't trusted myself to write until now. We flew three missions back to back and we're flying out again tomorrow…"_

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time I left New York in late June, Edward was six missions closer to the end of his tour. When I finally boarded the train for the ride west, I breathed a sigh of relief. My home simply no longer felt like home. No place felt like home anymore.

"_Where do I belong, Edward?"_

"_Here…in my arms…in my heart."_

In Forks, I kept myself busier than ever. My internship with Carlisle and helping Jasper to get the Canine Processing Center off the ground took up most of my summer days. Jasper had spent a month in California, learning the ropes for the Center, and upon his return, they'd made progress in modifying the Dwyer house, raising funds and finding volunteers to assist. A couple of the men Jasper had worked with when he'd been training dogs for the county would be helping, and if all went well, they were hoping to open the center by the end of summer – around the time we expected Edward home.

And so the days passed, and while Rose waited for word from Masen letting her know where he was, I waited for the letter from Edward informing me that he'd completed his missions and would finally be returning to me.

On the afternoon of July tenth, Esme, Rose and I were at the Dwyer house with a few volunteers, setting things up for the Forks Dogs for Defense Processing Center. Mrs. Cope, who'd be helping with the record keeping, and I were sitting at the desk, where I was showing her a few things I'd learned about record keeping both from college and from simply watching Papa Phil work on the railroad's books.

At one point, I set down the pen. "It's too hot for this. Let's take a break!"

I picked up an almost one year old Little Masen, who'd been running around the office half naked due to the heat, and blew raspberries on his belly, which threw him into fits of giggles. Rose laughed as she watched me dance with her son around the room, singing along with the tune playing on CBS's _Columbia Presents Como_ show.

_They were standing in a crowded station,  
So unaware,  
Of all the people there!  
I didn't mean to hear their conversation,  
But anyone could tell,  
It was their last farewell!_

"Bella, he's going to get the hiccups something fierce if he keeps laughing that way!" Rose scolded with a grin on her face.

"_Good-bye Sue!  
All the best of luck to you!  
You've been my only gal,  
What's more, my best pal!"_

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this news bulletin from the European Front. From Algiers, reports Winston Burdett for CBS."

I stopped dancing.

"American, British and Canadian troops have successfully landed across a hundred mile stretch of the Sicilian seaboard. The invasion is proceeding according to plan."

"Oh God," Esme breathed, while Rose quickly walked over to me and took her son back.

"The landings took place in the southeastern corner of Sicily. All early reports indicate that the first phase of this sea, air and land assault was a masterpiece of coordination. Our troops have landed in force. We have won on this day."

The announcer came back on the air.

"We will have more information as it comes in. And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming."

Rose shut her eyes and gripped my arm tightly. "Masen," she breathed.

OOOOOOOOOO

The letter from Masen about a week and a half later informed us that he'd been wounded in action by a sniper's bullet, which had grazed his ribs as he'd been tending to the wounded. He assured Rose over and over that he was just fine, and that he expected to be in the hospital for another few days before being returned to combat duty.

A few days later, I received a letter from Edward.

_My Beautiful Bella:_

_All these months, it's been your words and my memories of you and the knowledge that I have someone so wonderful waiting that's sustained me. I want to go home to you so badly. I need you to know that with all your heart. I need you like I need air to breathe, and I feel like I haven't taken a proper breath since the last time I saw you. I'm so close, Bella, so close to coming home to you that I can already taste your lips, savor the sweetness of your skin, feel the warmth of your body radiating all over mine. I close my eyes, and I dream of you in white looking at me through those golden eyes of yours while whispering, "I do."_

_As you surely know by now, Masen was wounded in Sicily, but he'll be alright. Please assure Rose of that because I know she's probably still panicked._

_Bella, for months, I've been trying to convince myself that it's okay to go home without him. I know that's what he wants me to do, and I know that's what you and my parents have been waiting for. But how can I do that, Bella, especially now that he's been injured? How can I just go home when he's still here, putting himself in danger day after day while I live the easy life back home? How would I live with myself, Bella? How?_

_I have four missions left on my current tour of duty. Another tour would add twenty-five missions._

_Tell me what to do, Bella, because I'm lost. I'm lost, Bella._

_I love you so much._

_Loyal and true to you always,_

_Lt. Edward A. Cullen_

##########

"So he stayed for another tour?" Skye asks in disbelief.

"I don't understand. He was so close to coming home!" Olivia yells out loud. "Why didn't you tell him how hard things were for you? Why didn't you tell him how much you needed him to come back home?! How could you allow him to even consider signing up for another overseas tour even if his brother was still over there?!"

"Olivia…" Isabella murmurs. "Each time your dad leaves for another tour, it's hard on _all_ of us, but this is what he does, this is what he believes in, and if we tried to change that, if we tried to change _him_, we wouldn't make it as a family. And Nana Bella…" – she gives my shoulder a squeeze – "she understands what that's like. She does. I'm so sorry I said you didn't understand," she whispers tearfully in my ear.

I recall what has us out here in the first place, the tears I found running down her cheeks a couple of hours ago, and I squeeze her hand back.

"After surviving the then required 35 missions piloting a B-17 over France and Germany, the copper-haired young man was sent to an English estate for a week of R&amp;R from the stress of combat. It was the type of place bomber crews referred to as "flack farms" – in honor of the deadly ant-aircraft fire that tended to cause so much of their stress.

He wrote me plenty of letters from there. He also wrote me in his journal, about his experiences. Words he knew he'd never voluntarily show me, but they gave him a sort of peace to write and pretend they were really to me.

In the meantime, in only six short weeks, Sicily fell to Masen and the Allies.

Operation Husky, as the invasion of Sicily was named, ended on August 17, 1943. The Allies drove the Axis from the island, and Benito Mussolini, the Italian dictator, was ousted from power. The Germans quickly moved into mainland Italy and took over, but the way was now paved for an Allied invasion of Italy.

And on that same day, after convalescence and further training, the copper-haired young man, now a Captain with the U.S. Air Force, flew the first mission of his second tour of duty.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: **_**Sunday, Monday or Always**_** (1943) by Bing Crosby**

_**Sunday, Monday or Tuesday  
Wednesday, Thursday or Friday  
I want you near  
Every day in the year**_

_**Oh, won't you tell me when  
We will meet again  
Sunday, Monday or always**_

*****A little bit of History on the WWII Dogs for Defense Program for those who are interested*****

**America had no combat-ready dogs in place when World War II loomed. At that time, the only dogs working for the military were sled dogs in Alaska, far from the front lines.**

**In January 1942, just a few weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor, "Dogs for Defense" was established. A group of leaders in Canine training and education met to discuss the project. Their immediate focus was the use of dogs on sentry duty to guard against attacks in the U.S. and its harbors. Obedience clubs and local dog trainers quickly became involved, and radio announcements and newspaper articles urged owners to donate their dogs to help win the war.**

**Like so many of the youthful soldiers and sailors they accompanied, these four-legged recruits were not career military. They came from the back yards of small towns and big cities, four-legged civilians of every size and shape, transformed through training from loving pets into working troops. The "Dogs for Defense" were sent to the front by owners who were glad to do their part for the war effort.**

**By March 1942, "Dogs for Defense" was recognized as the official agency for choosing and training sentry dogs. The group hoped to deliver dogs for the Army, Navy and Coast Guard. Training was then taken up by the Quartermaster Corps of the Army, which originally planned the war dog experiment for just 200 dogs, a number that quickly ballooned.**

**Originally, the call for war dogs included any physically sound purebred of either gender, age five or under, at least 20 inches at the shoulder, and "the characteristics of a watchdog," according to the Quartermaster General. But with purebreds being scarce, the requirements were relaxed to include crossbreds. Eventually, some breeds emerged as more suitable than others, based on temperament, skill, and even coat color (pale or partial-color coats would be too easy for an enemy to spot). The Army's 1942 list of 32 breeds classified as war dogs was later trimmed to 18, and to just five breeds by 1944.**

**More than 10,400 dogs were ultimately trained, many donated by families that trustingly shipped their pets into service. At a training center, the dogs learned to be sentries, scouts, messengers, or mine detectives. They learned to cope with the sounds of gunfire and the routine of a soldier's life — a jolting change from chasing a ball or begging for treats.**

**At war's end, after a retraining period that helped them readjust to civilian life, pets that had served as "dogs for defense" returned to their families, or retired to live with their military partners.**

**But the special canine veterans that served "over there" have not been forgotten by history. The "Always Faithful" memorial in Guam, with its sculpture of a Doberman pinscher on guard atop a roll call of beloved names, stands in honor of World War II's brave canines. Many of the four-legged soldiers that served in the war are immortalized by this memorial to their endurance and loyalty. At the University of Tennessee's veterinary school, an exact replica of the memorial is a quiet reminder of those furry war veterans, all gone now, but still saluted for their chapter in America's war story.**

From "WWII's Dogs for Defense" on news/care-safety/nws_dg_world_warII_dogs_for_defense-11924

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to "Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend. :)**


	56. Chapter 55 - D-Day

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 55: D-Day**

_March 15, 1944_

_My Dearest Bella:_

_We've resumed flying missions over Germany._

_Now that last October's disaster over Regensburg is no longer a secret, I'd like to talk to you about some of it, if you don't mind. Although telling you these things sort of goes against the grain, I feel like I'll implode if I don't share this with you._

_I find myself haunted, Bella. By fortresses. By the faces of men lost in those Schweinfurt and Regensburg missions. I'm haunted because it took over 600 KIA in one mission for those at the top to understand that we're not as invincible as they thought us to be._

_I close my eyes, and I see my fellow airmen falling. Where my dreams used to be of you, of every single moment we've spent together, now I dream of parachutes that won't open, of friends falling from the sky. I see men I laughed and joked with, played baseball and cards with. I see them burning. I don't know why the Woodland Nymph flies back in one piece mission after mission. I don't know what my men and I did for God to smile on us that way, Bella. Yet as unfair as it is, I'm grateful. I've broken enough promises to you._

_Anyway, with the arrival of the newly outfitted Mustang fighters to escort us deep into Germany, they're hoping the tide will finally turn in our favor. We're doing better, Bella, we really are, which is why this week, we'll be extremely busy. I can't say more than that right now, but please try not to worry if you don't hear from me for a few weeks._

_Bella, I know how selfish I've been; don't think I don't know. You don't deserve this waiting game with a pitiful fiancé who makes you promises only to break them over and over. One warm summer night under that evergreen by the house (The Anomaly. Remember when we used to call it that?), I swore to take care of your heart, to hold it safely within my palms, to never break it again. I've done a pretty horrible job of keeping that oath._

_If I were any sort of man, if I were half as brave as my superiors and my crew believe me to be, I'd let you go. I'm not stupid, Bella. Ever since you were a young girl, you've turned heads. And you're no longer the seventeen year old girl I left behind in a Seattle train station. You'll be twenty this year, and I can only imagine how men must buzz around you like bees to honey, hungry to swoop in when they learn that your fiancé has been absent for going on two years now._

_And I know you're upset with me. You've never said it, but I can tell. Not by the things you say, but rather by the things you no longer say. There's a change in you, Bella. I sense it in the long-range plans you no longer make, in the fact that for months now, not a single one of your letters has mentioned a word of marrying me. Whether it's conscious or subconscious on your part, I don't know. Nonetheless, I've noticed._

_But I couldn't leave Masen. I __**couldn't**__ make myself go. How could I have enjoyed life back home while my brother remained here in the thick of things? I would've been no good for you, Bella. So there was no right decision, no winning, no choice that would've been the correct one. I know it sounds like a paltry excuse. For years, I had big dreams, Bella, and you knew them. The biggest was flying, soaring up in those skies. Defending our people. Doing my duty._

_Yet, up in those skies, you figure things out quickly, and I've figured out that my lofty dreams were nothing more than unrealistic ideals of an unnecessary glory. If it weren't for my nightmares, I'd dream of nothing more than being back home with you, living out my days somewhere quiet with you as my wife. That's all I want now. But I can't help wondering if staying has meant losing you._

_I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe it's all in my mind. Maybe the high altitude has finally scrambled my brain, and I'm just losing it._

_As you know, I've seen Masen since his return to England from Sicily. I saw him again this past weekend during a pass to London. He's doing well, healed just fine from his injuries last summer. They've got him pretty busy here now._

_Bella, I'll be home soon, even if I have to crawl to you on my hands and knees. We're no longer the kids we were when this war started, and I've figured out what's important. I love you more today than I did yesterday. And tomorrow, I'll love you more than I do today. And I know that no matter what ever happens, it will always be that way. If you believe nothing else I say, please believe this._

_The invasion of Europe will happen soon. FDR wants this war done with by year's end. But whether it ends then or not, I'm coming home when my tour is over. I swear that to you. Now that we're back to flying regular missions, I'm calculating that I should be done sometime in late July. At that point, will you please marry me? You just have to say yes, name the day and place, and I'll know that if nothing else in this world is right, you and I still are._

_True and loyal to you always,_

_Captain Edward A. Cullen_

OOOOOOOOOO

_March 25, 1944_

_Dear Edward:_

_The news that you've resumed missions over Germany doesn't come as much of a surprise here on the home front. The War Department keeps us informed, and over this past year, it has become even more forthcoming with information. I suppose they don't feel they have much to hide any longer. After all, the Russians continue pushing the Nazis back from the Eastern front, Sicily was taken in only six weeks, Mainland Italy continues falling city by city, and in the Pacific, the Japanese are losing their hold on every island._

_They're calling early March's relentless air bombing campaign against German industry "Big Week." I assume that's what you were referring to when you warned me not to expect to hear from you for a few weeks. You also asked me not to worry, which is pretty unrealistic. There are things I can't speak, fears of which I won't even write, but they're there nonetheless. My heart aches for all the men lost in this war, and I'll pray for your friends, but my prayers will always be mainly for you._

_Edward, I won't deny that I was upset when you chose to complete another overseas tour, but I'm over it. Perhaps when you return, I'll find it in me to be angry, but right now, all I want is your safe return. I'm not sure what you mean when you say I've changed. I'm the same girl I was when you left a year and a half ago. Perhaps it's the changes in __**you**__ that make __**me**__ seem different._

_I'm glad that you've seen Masen again. Rose received a letter from him last week. She, as well as the rest of us here at home, are relieved that he's back in England instead of fighting in Italy. I suppose there was a silver lining to his being injured in Sicily. Though he has told Rose that things are busy, as you know, he's not able to write much about what he's actually doing. Nevertheless, Rose is pleased to at least receive regular mail from him._

_Here at home, everyone is well, though a bit nervous due to the rumors of what this summer may bring. "The time is ripe for the invasion of Europe!" the newspapers scream. Though, when and where it'll happen is something no one truly knows, and it's that uncertainty that keeps us all on edge._

_Did I tell you that Papa Phil has awarded a grant to Forks' Dogs for Defense Center? Rose and Mrs. Cope now get paid to run the office. I didn't even have to ask Papa Phil; I merely mentioned to him what a strain it was for Rose to travel up to Hoquiam daily and that with the long hours, she barely had any time with MJ. This makes it all much easier since most days, she takes MJ to the office with her. He's such a good boy; she just sets him down with his toys, and you barely even know he's there._

_MJ is so big, Edward. He's going to be as tall as you and Masen; we can already tell. Though honestly, that may be more a Masen thing. I haven't forgotten how long it took you to "grow into your skin" as Esme used to call it. MJ calls me "Aunty Bella" now. Can you believe that? The first time he said it, I practically squealed in delight._

_As I'm sure Alice has already written you, she's completed the nursing program and is now a Second Lieutenant in the Army. She's in Staten Island, New York for six weeks of combat nurse training. Afterwards, she'll receive her orders. She was here in Washington last week for a ten day furlough before leaving for New York, which is why I visited Forks. Now that the time is drawing near for her departure, she appears anxious; although, I don't doubt that excitement is part of that anxiousness. She's so much like you, Edward._

_Jasper will be heading to New York to see her off in a few weeks, which I suppose is a good sign for the state of their relationship. She spent her furlough in her own home with him - also a good sign. And though there still seems to be some tension between them, I'm hopeful. We're pretty sure that she'll be heading to Europe; otherwise, I believe they would've had her remain here on the west coast. The question is where in Europe will she go? The haste with which she tells me the combat nursing training is being conducted is to me another sign that the invasion is near, and they'll need plenty of nurses wherever it occurs._

_Speaking of Jasper, he's doing well. The Dogs for Defense Center has given him purpose. It keeps him busy, and keeping Jasper busy keeps him from other, less productive endeavors._

_I've spoken to Papa Phil, and we've agreed that I'll remain in Washington until the first week of July, after which I'll go to New York to meet you. I suppose there's no way of knowing where the Air Force will station you once you return, so we can discuss the rest when you're back._

_All my love,_

_Bella Marie Dwyer._

OOOOOOOOOO

_May 10, 1944_

_My Dearest Bella:_

_By the time you receive this letter, you'll have completed your second year of college._

_Every day for almost two years now, I've imagined you walking down U of W's halls, sitting in its classrooms with your shapely legs crossed and your head bent low as you take your notes. I've imagined a lock of your beautiful hair falling over your eyes, and I've imagined myself reaching over and pushing it behind your ear. I've pictured your golden eyes front and center as you listen intently to the professor's lesson, biting your lip in focus._

_But imagining isn't the same as actually being there with you._

_I've missed some of the most important moments of your life._

_But I'm coming back to you soon, sweetheart. I've been able to add quite a few missions to my tally in the past few weeks. Every time I return to my hut, I mark them off on the wall, and I grin to myself because with every line drawn, I'm closer to you._

_Bella, despite your assurances that all is well between us, assurances that you're not angry and that your feelings for me haven't changed, I know something is wrong. I asked you a question in one of my last letters, and you didn't answer it – which perhaps is an answer in and of itself._

_Am I going crazy, Bella? Am I imagining things? I don't know; maybe I am, but I have no intention of simply accepting defeat when it comes to you, when it comes to us. I've seen some of my fellow crewmen drink themselves into a stupor when things go wrong at home with their girls. But I won't do that. If you've lost your faith in us, Bella, I'll simply have enough faith for the both of us until I arrive home. If you're not as sure as you used to be, I'll be sure for the both of us. You're mine, Bella, and I'm yours, and when I'm back home, I'll remind you. I'll remind you of how much you once loved me, and I'll do all in my power to convince you to give me another chance to be a good man for you, to be what you need. My promises may no longer count for much, but I swear on our love that once I return, I'll spend the rest of my life making up these past two years to you._

_True and loyal to you always,_

_Captain Edward A. Cullen_

OOOOOOOOOO

"_The Polish flag is flying over the ruins of the ancient Italian monastery, which has been a symbol of German resistance since the beginning of the year,"_ I read. "_Polish troops entered the hill-top abbey this morning, six days after the latest attacks began on this strategic stronghold at the western end of the German defensive position known as the Gustav Line. British troops have taken control of the fortified town of Cassino at the foot of the "Monastery Hill". The Allies' hard-fought victory comes four months after their first assault on Monastery Hill failed in January-"_

"Remind me what today's date is, please?"

I lowered the newspaper and smiled at the young man in front of me. "Today is May 19, 1944, Private Andrews. The Battle for Monte Cassino was finally won yesterday."

"Four months," Private Andrews murmured, his head resting against his pillow as he stared at the ceiling. "Took 'em four months to win that hill."

"As the newspaper says, it was a hard-fought victory."

Private Andrews raised his head, and bearing his weight on his elbows, attempted to lift himself into a sitting position, grimacing from the effort. After allowing him a few attempts on his own, the way the nurses had asked me to, I set the paper down on the side table and moved to help him.

"There you go, Private," I said softly, easing him into a more comfortable position while being mindful not to hurt the bandaged stump where his left leg had once been. "Would you like me to finish reading?"

"Nah," he waved me off with a smile. "I got the gist of it. It's another victory for us Allies. That's all that matters. Like that battle I was in at Tarawa. Did you know we lost almost a thousand Marines in those three days last November? And over two thousand were wounded, including me." He tapped the stump that was left of his leg, wincing afterwards. "But we killed ourselves over three thousand of those Jap fuckers – pardon my French, Miss Bella." His green eyes took on a faraway look. "They just wouldn't give up. Anyway, we won, and that's what matters."

"I suppose," I whispered.

He studied me. "Gotten another letter from that flyboy of yours recently?"

"Yes," I smiled. "I received one just yesterday."

"What does he say? Is he planning on signing up for another tour so I can go ahead and move in on his girl?" He waggled his eyebrows provocatively, which made the top of the jagged scar that traversed from his hairline down his forehead, his cheek and to his collarbone shift from side to side.

"No," I chuckled. "I don't believe he is. He's busy flying his missions, and either way, Private, you're way too young for me."

"Aww, come on, Dolly!" he protested. "I should've never owned up to being eighteen! Besides, you're not even twenty yet! You told me so yourself!

"That was obviously a mistake." I raised a brow in as matronly a manner as possible. He laughed, and just then, in walked one of the nurses, an older, kind lady who tended to remind me of Ms. Cope.

"Bella, you can go ahead and go home now."

"But I've still got a couple of hours on duty."

She smiled. "Isn't your father in town to see you?"

"Yes, but we agreed that he'd pick me up later this evening for dinner."

"Bella, he's in all the way from the east coast. Go spend some extra time with him."

I bit my lip. Not having seen Papa Phil since last August, I was actually looking forward to spending time with him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now go!"

"Okay," I chuckled. "Private Andrews, please heed the nurses so that you can go home as soon as possible. I'll keep you in my prayers for a quick recovery."

"But won't you be back tomorrow?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'll be leaving for Forks tomorrow. Remember?"

The grenade that had taken his leg had also affected his short-term memory; this eighteen year old boy who'd already seen more death than most people would see in a lifetime. Yet the crestfallen pout suddenly on his face made him look even younger than his eighteen years, and it made me smile.

"It was great knowing you, Miss Bella. Thanks so much for spending time with me."

I patted his hand. "It was my pleasure."

OOOOOOOOOO

After stopping at my place to change out of my Gray Lady Volunteer uniform and quickly freshen up, I made my way to The Arctic Club, an eight-story hotel that at the time, serviced a clientele made up of mainly businessmen and politicians.

The hotel's elegant lobby was crowded when I entered, dozens of middle-aged men in suits stood around talking and smoking cigars while their wives and girlfriends formed their own little circles. The two men at the concierge desk appeared overwhelmed with the large crowd.

"I'm here to see Philip Dwyer, please," I informed the clerk, raising my voice to make myself heard over the hubbub. "I'm his daughter."

"Oh yes. Mr. Dwyer is in room 426, Miss Dwyer." The clerk hastily picked up the telephone. "I'll just ring him and let him know you're here." He stuck his finger in the rotary, but before he could dial, one of the many businessmen approached.

"We requested a conference room ten minutes ago. What's going on here?"

The harried clerk set down the phone. "I apologize, Congressman. I'll look into that right away!"

"I see you're busy," I told the clerk with a sympathetic smile. "I'll just make my way up."

"Thank you, Miss Dwyer," he breathed gratefully before quickly turning his attention back to the telephone.

While the elevator made its slow ascent to the fourth floor, I mentally prepared myself for a visit with my stepfather. I had a strong suspicion that this business trip he'd "suddenly" had to make to Seattle was as much to check on me as it was for the railroad business. He hadn't exactly been thrilled about my going to Forks for the first half of the summer, but since I'd be interning with both Carlisle and Jasper, and since it would look good on my resume for medical school, he couldn't in good conscience forbid it. Besides, I'd be twenty years old in a few months. Despite Philip Dwyer's tendency to control everything around him, I was no longer a child.

With a deep sigh, I knocked on the door to room 426, knocking again thirty seconds later when the first knock proved ineffective.

About ten seconds after the third knock, Papa Phil opened, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw me. Then a somewhat puzzled smile graced his still handsome face.

"Isabella."

And all of a sudden I felt such an ache, such an intense feeling of loneliness and nostalgia mixed into one. I raised myself on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Papa."

When he put his arms around me, I closed my eyes, and I was nine years old again, visiting Forks for the first time, and my new stepfather was the only one who seemed to understand how lonely I felt.

I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed, inhaling his familiar sandalwood cologne.

"Isabella, what are you doing here?"

"I'm surprising you."

The words were uttered at exactly the same moment that the familiar scent of his cologne turned into something else, something…unfamiliar…a foreign, exotically sweet fragrance.

When I reopened my eyes, I caught a flash of movement just over Papa Phil's shoulder. Unraveling my arms from around his neck, I pulled away, and when I looked up at Papa Phil, I noted things I'd missed in my initial haste.

His hair wasn't as perfectly combed and slicked back as usual, his collar was open, as was his vest, and the shirt that lay underneath wasn't as perfectly starched as I was used to seeing him in.

I walked past him into the large, well-appointed hotel room.

The woman I'd seen in my periphery had quickly taken a seat at the cherry wood table in the center of the room. She made a hasty and covert attempt at adjusting the bun behind her head and her glasses.

Papa Phil closed the door and followed me.

"Isabella, you do remember my secretary, Bree Tanner, don't you? She's…we were going over some notes for my meeting with Boeing tomorrow. Bree, you remember my daughter, Isabella."

Papa Phil's secretary stood, and my eyes drifted over her nervous features, features that like my own mother's once had, resembled a young Esme.

She gave me a faint smile. "Of course, Mr. Dwyer. Miss Dwyer, it's lovely to see you again."

"Likewise, Miss Tanner," I responded instinctively, ten years of Miss Tudor's etiquette classes kicking in like second-nature.

"Your father has mentioned that you attend university here on the west coast."

"Yes, I do."

Silence.

Papa Phil cleared his throat. "Well, Bree, I believe we've gone over enough for now. Please just…type up those notes, and we'll review and revise tomorrow before the meeting."

"Yes, Mr. Dwyer." Her words came out in an anxious rush. "Good night then. Good night, Miss Dwyer. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you. Enjoy your evening as well."

Then she swiftly made her way past me and to the door, head bent low as she went. I heard the door open and close, and for a few seconds, I simply stood there.

OOOOOOOOOO

On the ride to the restaurant, we attempted small talk about the weather, about the war, but with each passing second, my chest swelled with indignation and such a tightness gripped my insides that it was hard for me to breathe.

"So how was the school year?" he asked after the waitress took our menus.

"Don't you already know? You usually know these things even before I do."

He responded with a somewhat shaky chuckle. "Yes, I do know. Congratulations on another successful year."

"Thank you."

The sommelier brought our wine.

"How was Mother when you left?"

"She was fine…just fine, as she always is." He swished his wine around before taking a sip.

"Why didn't she come with you?"

He sighed and set down his glass. "Isabella, we discussed this. She was considering accompanying me, but then she received an invitation to spend the week in the Hamptons. As you'll be home in a couple of months, she decided to accept the invitation."

"Well that worked out conveniently well for _all_ involved."

He held my gaze. "What does that mean, Isabella?"

"It means exactly what I said, Papa Phil."

We studied our surroundings for a while.

"How's your wine?"

"Perfectly adequate, thank you. And yours?"

"It'll do, but I do miss French wine with a good meal."

I stared at my glass. "Well, if the invasion happens soon, as the rumors say it will, you'll once more be able to enjoy all the pleasures your money can buy."

"That makes me sound pretty shallow and heartless, Isabella."

"Does it?"

Our meals arrived. We ate in silence for a few minutes.

"So what's the news from the European front with young Masen and Edward?"

"Don't you know, Papa Phil? Again, I thought you knew absolutely everything, regardless of where it occurs."

"Even my knowledge has its limits, especially when it comes to the war. The military isn't exactly forthcoming with its secrets."

"Aren't they? I'm shocked that there's an institution that actually says no to you."

He set down his utensils.

"What is this flippancy bordering on disrespect that I'm receiving from you this evening, Isabella? Did you have a bad day?"

"I suppose I have had a bad day, Papa Phil," I snapped. "In fact, you might say I've had a bad few months, or like most Americans, a bad two and a half years since this goddamned war began. Unfortunately, we can't _all_ find silver linings in our dealings."

"If you've had a bad few months, perhaps you should lay the blame where it belongs, Isabella: at your fiancé's feet," he retorted. "He should've returned after his first tour. If he loved you the way he claimed he did, he would've returned!" His fist banged the table. "If I could control everything the way you seem to think I can, I would've never allowed either he or his brother to place themselves in the front lines of this conflict in the first place!"

"They're honorable men, Papa Phil. _Honorable!_"

"There's a fine line between honor and stupidity, Isabella," he hissed. "If it's only a matter of honor, then I don't understand your objections to Peter Vanderneck. He's an Air Force man as well."

I threw up my hands and rolled my eyes. "Must we always return to Peter? Yes," I sneered, head bent low as I spoke furiously, "he's an honorable Air Force man serving from the safety of his home base!"

Papa Phil shook his head. "Isabella, when did you become so judgmental, especially when you're lacking all the facts to pass down such judgments?"

"I don't need all the facts, Papa! I have eyes and a mind that's been taught to figure things out for itself. It's called being able to make an educated guess."

We glared at one another, both of us knowing that we were no longer talking about Peter.

"Is that what they're teaching you in college, to guess, infer and make judgments with limited information and to justify those judgments by hiding behind your education? Leaving everything else that you may be…_inferring_ aside," he scowled, "there may be more to young Peter than you could possibly _guess_."

"Even if that were true, it makes no difference. And what the hell is all this talk about Peter? I thought you approved of my engagement to Edward?"

"First, watch your language when speaking to me. Second, I did, but time passes, Isabella, and despite your refusal to admit it, I saw how devastated you were by his decision to remain in England for another tour. Sometimes, we need to revisit and revise our choices. It's called being able to employ reason and rationality, Isabella, two things I've always prided myself on your having learned to do."

I sat back in my chair and snorted, crossing my arms against my chest. "That is what has _always_ been the flaw in your logic, Papa Phil: your steadfast belief in the powers of reason and rationality. But in matters of the heart, there's no room for reason or rationality. When you truly love, you love forever, regardless of distance, of differing goals, of disagreements or of one's desire for power and glory while the other wants nothing more from life than a comfortable home and a safe and happy family. And when you abandon the one you love because you don't agree with their choices, you won't be able to replace them with someone who looks like _her_ or with someone who wears the same uniform as _him_. Love _isn't_ interchangeable," – a tear slid down my cheek – "and you'll spend your whole life searching for that irrational and unreasonable love you once gave up. Peter could wear the same uniform as Edward. He could fly the same exact missions if that were the case, yet he'll never be Edward. And you, Papa, will never find another Esme, and it's unfair to Mother and to anyone else for you to keep searching."

His chest heaved up and down, and after a few seconds, he dropped his head.

OOOOOOOOOO

Papa Phil's driver parked the car in front of my apartment.

"When do you leave for Forks?" Papa asked.

"Tomorrow morning."

The driver made to open his door.

"I've got it," Papa Phil said.

He opened the door for me and walked by my side to the building's entrance. Taking my hand, he smiled.

"Isabella, I'm not a perfect man, but whatever my shortcomings, you have _always_ been my daughter. My mistakes shouldn't have any sort of bearing on my relationship with you."

I hugged him tightly and pulled away.

"You think your actions shouldn't affect me, but the things you've done, the things Mother has done, the things Esme and Carlisle have done, even before any of us were born, affect all of us." I lifted myself on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, Papa."

OOOOOOOOOO

_Yes, I've been angry with you, I have. I haven't wanted to admit it to myself or to you, but I can't pretend anymore. I can't deny how hurt I was, and I won't deny that sometimes…sometimes I wanted to stop loving you. Sometimes I wished I could truly be like Mother._

_But I'm not like her, Edward. Yes, I've changed. You're right. I have changed. But my love for you is the one constant in my life, it's the one thing that keeps me grounded. I __**can't**__ stop loving you. My love for you hasn't diminished one iota since you've been gone. I too love you more with each passing day, and I'm so sorry for the way I've been acting, for my childish impassivity and for my inability and unwillingness to tell you that I wanted to scream when I found out you'd signed up for another tour. I wanted to beat my hands against your chest for putting yourself in that position, for putting __**me**__ in this position. Perhaps your promise to never break my heart and my desire to believe that promise were just childhood fantasies, like your childhood belief in woodland nymphs and my little girl belief in tooth fairies – impossible things in which to believe._

_But I believe in our love, and I'm still here, Edward. I'll be here when you return, and I'll marry you, Edward. Of course I will. I'll marry you the day you arrive, I'll marry you a week later. I'll marry you in Forks, in Carlisle and Esme's back yard, and we'll have Rose's roast chicken and Esme's chocolate cake, and everything else, we can figure out later. Because what I feel for you is beyond love, and I accept that now. You're a part of me, the other half of my heart, and as I've told you, the day yours stops, mine won't be far behind. That will never change._

_Come home to me soon. I'll be waiting. Always._

_Bella Marie Dwyer._

OOOOOOOOOO

_May 20, 1944_

_Dear Alice:_

_Jasper will be leaving tomorrow to meet with you in New York. I'm so glad that you'll both have this time together. He tries to appear impassive, but I can tell he's anxious to see you. I know how he feels, Alice. Be good to him. He truly loves you so much. He's okay now; I want you to know that. Don't go over there worried about him. Jasper has found a purpose, a way to do his part in this war, and that makes it easier for him to accept your part in it._

_That being said, I'm so proud of you, Alice. I don't think I've ever said it, but know that I am. I was supposed to be your sister-at-heart, yet I gave you such a hard time when you first joined the Nurse Cadet Corp program two years ago (God, has it been two years?). I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't the friend or the sister I was supposed to be. And I want you to know that you were right about everything you said to me. I was selfish; angry at you for wanting things I didn't understand; things I'd always accepted from Edward. It wasn't my place to judge you._

_You're brave, Alice. You, Masen and Edward, the three of you were born with an innate courage, and the rest of us here will someday owe you so much, more than I think we can even fathom. God Bless you while you're over there, my sister-at-heart, and may He end this war and send you back home safely and swiftly, so that we may all rebuild our lives with this conflict behind us, with it as no more than a memory that we'll hopefully someday relegate to a hard lesson learned, yet one learned in the company of all our loved ones._

_Love always,_

_Bella_

OOOOOOOOOO

On a warm evening in the first week of June, I was upstairs in Edward's room, writing him a letter about the small celebration we'd just had in town that day in honor of the Allied liberation of Rome.

There was a knock at the door, and Esme quickly peaked in.

"Bella, honey, put on your robe and come downstairs right away!"

"What is it, Esme? Is something wrong?"

"Go downstairs. Carlisle is by the radio in the kitchen, and he'll explain. I'll get Rose."

In the kitchen, Carlisle was seated at the table, adjusting the knobs on the Philco.

"Carlisle, what is it?"

"The U.S. outlets aren't confirming anything other than announcements that were intercepted from German radio. It's already the next day in Europe, about eight a.m. on June 6. Apparently, this started a couple of hours ago."

"…_still no Allied confirmation from any source. Correspondents who rushed to the War Department in Washington soon after the first German broadcast was heard were told that our War Department had no information on the German reports. There's been no announcement of any sort from Allied Headquarters in London."_

I slowly sank over a chair.

"_The first news of the German announcement reached this country at 12:37 AM Eastern War Time. The Associated Press recorded this broadcast, and immediately pointed out that it could be one which Allied leaders have warned us to expect from the Germans."_

Esme and Rose rushed into the kitchen, taking a stand behind Carlisle and me.

"…_after 1:00 AM Eastern War Time, the Berlin Radio opened its news program with a so-called "invasion announcement." Columbia's shortwave listening station here in New York heard the Berlin Radio say, and I quote: "Here is a special bulletin. Early this morning the long-awaited British and American invasion began when paratroops landed in the area of the Somme estuary. The harbor of Le Havre is being fiercely bombarded at the present moment. Naval forces of the German navy are off the coast fighting with enemy landing vessels. We've just brought you a special bulletin." End of the quotation. That is the invasion announcement as heard from the Berlin Radio by Columbia's shortwave listening station."_

"It may not be true," Rose said. "It may just be German propaganda."

"It's possible," Carlisle conceded.

"…_Trans-Ocean, one of the German news agencies, says, and I quote: "Early Tuesday morning, landing craft and light warships were observed in the area between the mouth of the Somme and the eastern coast of Normandy."_

"Normandy?" Rose frowned. "Where exactly is Normandy?"

"It's coastal land in Northern France, stretching from Cherbourg to Dieppe."

Three sets of curious eyes gazed down at me.

"Madame Beauchamp was an eager and thorough tutor."

About a half hour later, Carlisle called Jasper. Fifteen minutes later, Jasper joined us in the kitchen.

At twelve thirty-two a.m., west coast war time, CBS radio made an official broadcast:

"_Under the command of General Eisenhower, Allied naval forces, supported by strong air forces, began landing Allied armies this morning on the northern coast of France…"_

"My God," Carlisle breathed, "help them all."

Esme dropped her head and wept.

My heart pounded. Esme looked up suddenly and cradled Jasper's cheek in one hand before reaching out and taking both Rose's and my hand.

"They'll be okay," she nodded. "They will."

I swallowed thickly.

"Shh! Shh!" Jasper interrupted. "Listen!"

Holding a finger up to his mouth, he turned down the radio's volume. At my feet, Sandy's old ears perked up at the far-off yet clear chiming in the distance.

"The church bells," Esme murmured. "The church bells are ringing." She turned lost eyes to her husband. "Carlisle, what do we do now?"

Carlisle drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I suppose there's nothing more we can do right now but wait...and pray."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: You Always Hurt the One You Love (1944) by The Mills Brothers:**

_**You always hurt the one you love  
The one you shouldn't hurt at all  
You always take the sweetest rose  
And crush it till the petals fall**_

_**You always brea-eak the kindest hear-eart  
With a hasty word you can't recall, so  
If I broke your heart la-ast night  
It's because I love you most of all**_

*****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED*****

**We will talk more about D-Day, the Allied Invasion of Normandy, in the upcoming chapter. For now, the following is the speech that General Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces in Western Europe, broadcast to the Allied military right before the invasion on June 6, 1944:**

"_**Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!**_

_**You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hope and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.**_

_**Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well-trained, well-equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.**_

_**But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940 and 41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men.**_

_**The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory!**_

_**I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!**_

_**Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking!"**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all next week.**


	57. Chapter 56 - In the Hedgerows

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 56 – In the Hedgerows**

* * *

_June 9, 1944:_

_Dear Pop,_

_Boy how I miss you, old man. I've never told you in person how much you mean to me, have I? I'd like to remedy that in the future, but please know that a fellow couldn't ask for a better pop. Ed and I got to talking last time we met up in London, and we agreed that you and Mama have given us three all you've been able to and then some. My greatest wish is to go home and raise my son the way you raised me. _

_By now, you know of the invasion, and now you'll know that I was part of it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but it's been highly classified, and we were warned daily of the risks of letting the cat out of the bag. Eisenhower went through great lengths to keep the particulars a secret and to convince Jerry that we'd be landing anywhere other than Normandy. Even we had no real idea of when or where it would happen until we received word last week that we'd be moving to the coast to await further orders. Pop, you should've seen those Brits lining the streets, cheering us on and waving American flags as we made our way en route, puffing us up with all kinds of adrenaline. I'll tell you this: it sure made me feel like Superman himself. _

_But now, I've never felt more tired in my twenty-three years. It's an exhaustion that seeps right through my bones and into my very soul. How I'm able to be this depleted and still push on is a mystery, but push on I must. _

_Forgive me for unburdening myself to you, but I can't ever tell Rose these things, and Ed's got enough going through his brain as well if he was part of those fortresses that bombed the coastline and bunkers the night before we landed. Besides, his time in this war is almost up, and I don't want him even considering another tour. "That sweet little girl of yours ain't gonna wait forever," I tell him, just to keep a fire lit under his backside. That's his biggest fear as you know, and if it gets him home quick, then I'm not above exploiting it. _

_Pop, I know you've been through war too, so I hope you'll understand why now that none of this is classified anymore, I HAVE to get some of it off my chest. I don't think I'll be able to function otherwise, physically or mentally, and I've got too much to do to get stuck in either way. So please, bear with me and know that if I didn't value you so much, I wouldn't be sharing this with you. _

_We were assigned to the beach codenamed "Omaha." Our __primary objective was to assist the first wave in securing the beachhead and linking up with the British landings east at "Gold Beach," and with the VII Corps west of us at "Utah Beach." Our__ landing craft had run aground on a sandbar, and while we prepared to wade into the water, I heard the hissing of machine gun fire and then watched as the handful of troops in front of me suddenly went down._

_Pop, seventy-two hours later, I still can't say exactly how I made it off that LC. All I know is that I kept reminding myself that I've got Rose and MJ at home waiting. But how many of the men that died around me on that LC had wives, kids, parents, brothers and sisters? _

_Next thing I knew, I was neck-deep in water. It's not easy to run in water with all that gear on, I'll tell you. Yet once I made it to the beach, I kind of wanted to turn around and get right back on the LC. Artillery shells burst all around me, hitting targets with absolutely no bias or prejudice - officers and infantrymen alike being struck and losing lives and limbs. Mines buried in the sand exploded like hidden fireworks. Everywhere I looked, men fell screaming and dying. There was no safe place to run, nowhere to dig in and hide. A bunch of men kept trying to use the tripods and obstacles meant to impede our approach as cover, but it was no use. Jerry was at such an advantage, high above the bluffs and cliffs, protected by cement bunkers while picking us off with machine guns and funneled mortars. _

_Pop, I just don't think I can truly do that beach justice except to say that if there's a physical representation for hell, it was there on the morning of June 6. _

_So while soldiers dropped like flies and in the most horrendous ways imaginable, the best that my fellow medics and I could do for many was just shoot them up with morphine until the combat chaplain could make his way over to administer hasty last rites. I'm not sure how long we were stuck on that beach, Pop, but I'll tell you, it felt like lifetimes. At some point, one of the few officers still left (a Colonel Taylor, I found out later) started running around, completely ignoring the heavy fire whizzing by his head and yelling for everyone to "get the hell off of the beach!" _

"_Gentlemen, there are two kinds of men out here!" he barked. "The dead, and those who are about to die! So let's get the hell off this beach and at least die inland!"_

_Pop, I'm not sure if it was what he said or the way he said it or if it was the fact that he called us "gentlemen," which reminded us that despite the fact that we were being slaughtered like animals, we were in fact not beasts. We were brothers, husbands, sons and fathers. The men started following him, and e__ventually, a few small units were able to infiltrate the defenses by scaling the bluffs. Once a foothold was finally established, those men got off the beach and as soon as we were able, we gathered our wounded and followed them. By the end of the day, we'd expanded the beachhead, and finally, today, on D-Day + 3, our objectives for Omaha have been achieved. _

_Now, it's time to establish a new front in this war to split those Jerry armies between here and the Eastern front. We'll be moving inland town by town, taking those bridges that haven't already been bombed by Ed and his airmen. With air superiority having been established for a few months now, the weakened Luftwaffe won't be able to attack the temporary harbors we've set up to bring in our armies and equipment. I'm hoping it won't be too long before we're at Hitler's door, and then maybe, just maybe, all the poor bastards that lost their lives a few days ago won't have died in vain. Their families and loved ones will know that their death bought the liberation and freedom of an entire continent, of millions of oppressed who've been holding their breath for years in anticipation of this moment._

_Pop, I've come to a conclusion in the past few days. There's no rhyme or reason for who makes it out of this. It's either divine intervention or the luck of the draw. I don't know which, but I get the feeling that either way, all of this has already been pre-determined. At some point, our luck decides or God steps in and says, "It's your time," or "No, buddy, it ain't your time yet." Regardless, Hitler has to be stopped, and you can call it being naïve or being stupid, but I'm convinced it was us that had to stop him, every single one of us here in this country right now surrounded by death and destruction and beautiful bluffs and white sand turned red with blood. It was our fate to be here. _

_So I'll regret none of it, Pop, because we're pursuing the greatest cause known to man: our basic freedom. And in the end, it's not the glory that'll remain, but the knowledge that we lived and died in service to our fellow man._

_Of course that's not to say I don't pray hard that my own fate is to go home to you all. I pray that my luck won't run out or that God himself won't appear around a bend and say, "Masen boy, you've done good, but now it's time to head for that big castle in the sky." There's so much I want to tell you and Mama in person. I want to make love to my wife and hold my son. I want to see my brother and sister again. But if it's my time, Pop, you explain this to all of them. You tell them I didn't regret it. There comes a time when a man has to see the big picture, when he has to be willing to lay down his life for what he believes and not simply wait for others to do it. I see the big picture now, and no matter what, I'll always be proud to have been a part of this great crusade. _

_Tomorrow, we'll be heading out. I hear word that they've got an American nursing unit arriving in a couple of days, once the beachhead is completely secure. I wonder if Alice is part of it. If she is, I hope she's got the stomach for all she's about to see. Then again, my sister was always a strong girl._

_I've also heard the land around here is lush and rich, with hedgerows that grow thick and wild, and vegetation not too different from that found in Forks. I'm looking forward to seeing it. Maybe it'll feel somewhat like home. _

_I love you, Pop, and I'll try to write again soon._

_Corporal Masen S. Cullen_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_June 26, 1944_

_Dear Bella: _

_I hope this letter finds you well. I've wanted to write sooner, but I honestly haven't had more than five minutes to myself since we arrived in Normandy. _

_Today is D-Day + 20, and Bella, so much has happened that I hardly know where to begin. It's difficult to fathom that just one month ago, I was leaving the U.S. for the first time in my life. _

_We landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day + 6, after the fighting on the beaches was over. Thousands of troops still remained there, however, securing the area and assisting in the efforts to land soldiers and tons of equipment arriving daily through the man-made harbors. _

_We've set up a mobile evacuation hospital here in St. Mere Eglise, the first village liberated by paratroopers after the invasion. It's a small village not too far from the beaches, and if it wasn't for the burned buildings, the army troops marching everywhere, the jeeps and tanks and the mobile hospital with the big Red Cross tent set up right in the middle of the square, I could honestly say it's the prettiest village I've ever seen in my life: picture-postcard-looking with an old-time church and warm water springs right behind it. When the sun sets in the evenings, it illuminates the church, making the entire thing glow as if it has a halo around it. It's soul-searing in its beauty. _

_Typical of me, isn't it, that I'd be admiring the scenery in the middle of this? But you know me. You know how much I've always wanted to get out and see the world. But please don't think that I walk around all day wide-eyed and slack-jawed. In the past few weeks, I've seen things that I'll never forget for as long as I live. Both beautiful and horrifying things. I've crossed the English Channel into France. I've landed on French beaches where the personal effects of dead men still float in the tide. I've helped to set up hospitals for men left with no arms or legs or eyes. In the distance, explosions and gunfire from the fighting in Carentan ring in our ears all night. _

_The Germans aren't giving up easily. They hide in the thick hedgerows (or "bocage" as they call it here) that grow further inland. They're accustomed to the terrain in a way that our soldiers just arriving here simply aren't. _

_I do my job the way I'm told to, Bella, by putting aside the fact that these men are someone's son, husband, father or brother. But I see them, and I see the men in my life, and it's so hard not to cry in front of them. _

_I'll tell you something I didn't tell Jasper in my letter to him, or to Mama and Pop in my letter to them._

_There was a young boy. I call him a boy because he couldn't have been more than eighteen. He'd had both legs blown off by a mine hidden in between the hedgerows. The doctor's amputated the mangled parts that were left of his limbs, but the damage to the rest of him was just too great. We had him on morphine, and at one point, he opened his eyes and looked up at me with so much trust. "How am I doing, Nurse?" he asked. "You're fine, soldier," I lied. "You're doing just fine." Then he smiled and closed his eyes and died._

_We work 16 hour shifts, and then we spend a couple of hours afterwards cleaning linens and restocking supplies. The days all run into each other. The surgeries are non-stop. When it's finally time for sleep, we retire into tents constantly surrounded by mosquitoes, drifting off to the lullaby of gunfire. _

_So yes, it's difficult. It's heartbreaking and terrifying and just…nightmarish. Yet it's also exhilarating, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm right where I belong. I want to do more. I want to help as much as I can and go to places where we're needed so badly. _

_But I also already know that once I return home, I'll never leave again, Bella. If I can somehow make it up to Jasper for being such a wanderer, then I want to spend the rest of my life safe and warm in his arms, making love and making babies and proving that somehow this war, this death was worth its price. _

_We're moving on tomorrow. As soon as I'm done with this letter, I have to help take apart the hospital tent so that we can load everything into jeeps and trucks and set up again once we reach our next destination further into Normandy. _

_I think of my brothers often, and I keep them in my prayers. I've written to them, but with my movement and theirs, I don't know when we'll hear from each other. Tell them I'm okay when you hear from them, and tell them that I love them with all my heart. _

_Love you,_

_Your sister-at-heart,_

_Lieutenant Alice M. Cullen_

_OOOOOOOOOO_

_July 1, 1944_

_My dearest Bella:_

_As I write this, I only have a handful of missions left to fly before I can come home to you. With the way we're flying lately, I expect to be done within a week. I expect it'll take another week between debriefings and such before the powers that be give me my embarkation orders. Therefore, I should be in New York sometime in late July._

_Sweetheart, I can hardly believe that, God-willing, in about a month, I'll finally be with you. It seems a lifetime since I held you, my love - a lifetime since I tasted your sweet lips and felt your warm body against mine. A life-time since you let me love you, and God, I look forward to loving you that way again, of caressing your silky skin and breathing in your sighs. I have nightmares, Bella, but I know they'll end once we're back together. I have a hard time breathing lately, but I know that once my heart beats next to yours again, all will be right._

_Bella, I won't lie to you and say that I've made total peace with the fact that I'll be going home while both my brother and sister are still stuck in this war, in the middle of this nightmarish invasion that lays ahead. But I can't be without you anymore. I pray for them every day. I've written to them, but with both of their units constantly on the move, I don't know if either have received my letters. The last reports from the front indicate that despite having spent almost a month fighting in Normandy, the Allies have advanced less than ten miles from the beach. The hedgerows and high packed vegetation have proven to be a real obstacle for both vehicles and troops. The jeeps and tanks get stuck in the heavy patchwork of pastures while the German Wehrmacht hide behind the heavily-defended maze of roots. _

_At this point, we've established air supremacy over Europe, destroyed much of Germany's oil reserves and bombed most of their transportation. While their factories continue to run, there's not much they can do without oil and without ways to transport their weapons and machinery. Yet, they're not ready to give up, are they? Hitler is now launching those V-1 bombs daily at London in retaliation for the invasion. He's got to know he's losing, yet he's still killing people by the thousands! But we've got his number, sweetheart. That's what he doesn't understand, and the Mighty Eighth has some mighty big surprises in store for that maniac and his buzz bombs._

_There's still so much left to do in this war, Bella. Over in the Pacific, we won the naval battle for the Philippine Sea last week, shooting down 200 Jap planes while losing 29 of ours, and while that may seem like a small number, every single one of those men represents an unnecessary loss. If only those bastards would just admit defeat and agree to unconditional surrender before anyone else has to die! Even FDR said a couple of weeks ago that once we've eliminated our European enemy, we'll be turning all our strength towards the Pacific. Don't they realize what that means not only for our people, but for theirs as well? Don't they see what's happening here in Europe?_

_Either way, Bella, these are all questions that without a doubt, will continue to haunt me. I'll rail and complain and yell and howl, and I'll worry day and night for Masen and Alice – but I'll do so from home, as your husband. And I'll serve my country as well as I can from a home base, close to you, never to be parted from you again. Because you, Isabella Marie Dwyer (soon to be Cullen), always have been and always will be the most important part of my life, and it's time I started proving that. _

_Don't worry if you don't hear from me for the next couple of weeks. I'll be busy making my way home to you. _

_True and loyal to you always._

_Captain Edward A. Cullen_

OOOOOOOOOO

I squinted my eyes at the July 13 newspaper headline while the Forks' rare morning sun shone overhead, the glare making it hard for me to make out the small print of the _Seattle Times_.

"Interesting,' I murmured, using my hand as a makeshift visor to scan the article. Folding the paper under my arm, I stepped into the Forks Mercantile to pay for the newspaper and to pick up the delivery of gauze strips that had finally come in for Carlisle's vet practice. With the war on, it was another item that had become hard to come by.

The bell chimed over me as I opened the door, and Jessica Newton, née Stanley, lifted her head.

"Bella," she smiled, "I was hoping we'd see you before you left."

I smiled back as I made my way over and gasped at the pretty little package in her arms, sucking its thumb sweetly and displaying an obviously tired pout.

"Goodness, she's growing so quickly!"

Chuckling, Jessica held out her one-year-old daughter to me over the glass counter display, and I eagerly received her. Little Franny looked up and gazed at me through small, sleepy blue eyes, just like her father's. Then sighing, she dropped her head again and rested it on my shoulder.

"She needs a nap," Jessica smiled.

"So I see," I chuckled quietly, stroking the little girl's wildly curly brown hair, inherited from the Stanley side.

"I'm just waiting for Mike to finish in the stock room before I take her up to rest. But you know how slow he can be back there – especially now," she whispered conspiratorially.

I rocked Franny slowly from side to side while giving Jess a sympathetic nod. "He'll get the hang of it. You both will. He's only been back for a few months."

"Oh, I know he will," Jess replied hastily. "And if he doesn't, that's fine. I'm just happy he's home. I really am." A thousand emotions flashed through her eyes before she expelled an anxious chuckle.

"Edward used to tease him so because he was so slow back there."

"I'm sure it was all in good fun."

"Oh, I know it was," she agreed, and then drew in a deep, tired sigh. "Silly, the things we used to get our backs up about."

"They certainly were," I murmured, planting a soft kiss on her daughter's now sleeping head. "But we were kids, and we didn't know any better."

"And now…" she snorted, shaking her head, "well, now we know what real enemies can do to you."

"Yes," I breathed shakily. "We sure do."

"Anyway," - she shook her head quickly as if to clear it – "when are you leaving for New York?"

"Tomorrow. If all goes well, I should be back in New York by the nineteenth. Edward isn't due to arrive until the end of the month."

"And the wedding?" she grinned. "When will that take place?"

"We don't know exactly," I said much more brightly, "but we'll most likely come back here for it. After that, he'll probably have to report to one of the air bases, hopefully here on the west coast."

"Yes," she nodded, "he'll most likely have to remain in the Air Force 'for the remainder', as they say. The only reason Mike was discharged from the Army was…well, you know."

"I know." I offered her a compassionate smile. "But at least he-"

"Hey, Bella!" Mike stepped out from the stock room. "How are you doing? What do you think of that FDR running for a fourth term?"

"I think it's great. He's got my vote."

"And don't think he won't win," he grinned. "The invasion is moving slowly but it's moving. And once we get that score settled, maybe we can finally get those goddamn Japs out of New Guinea," he scowled. "God damn, fucking Japs. To hell with every single one of them! If I could-"

"Mike, calm down." Jessica reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You're back from the war," she reminded him calmly. "You don't have to worry about them anymore. You're _back_."

"I know. I know. But the things they did…."

A pained sound escaped him, followed by a long, breathy groan. His eyes glazed over as if he were abruptly seeing something completely different from what was before him - not the store items and merchandise for sale on shelves and in glass counters, but something utterly terrifying that Jessica and I couldn't even fathom.

When he grabbed on to the counter in front of him with his one remaining hand, we watched silently as he breathed in and out through narrowed lips.

"I'll be okay. I'll be okay."

And the entire time, Jessica ran her hand up and down his shoulder, speaking soft words to him.

"You will, Mike. You will. You're home. You're home."

"I know. I've just gotta learn to…" He groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and when he finally reopened them a full minute later, that glazed look was gone, and he was Mike Newton again. Not exactly the Mike Newton who'd left for the Pacific over a year ago, but neither was he the one who'd just panicked over a dark memory on a bright sunny day in the middle of the mercantile.

He was, like most boys who'd returned from the war, someone stuck somewhere in between.

"Anyway, did my daughter fall asleep in your arms?"

"Yes," I smiled gently, my heart aching for him and Jess. "She did."

"You want me to take her?" He reached out with his one full arm and with the other one that now ended at his elbow.

"Actually, I don't mind holding her if you could please get me the gauze strips that came in for Carlisle? We've really been needing those."

"Oh." He pulled back. "Sure. Sure, I'll get those for you right away. Just give me a few minutes to figure out where I-"

"Actually, honey," Jess cut in, "how about you take the baby from Bella while _I_ get the gauze?" Her eyes quickly flickered to me, and I had to bite my lip at the brow she lifted in warning.

No matter which version of Mike he was, he'd always be horrible at running the stockroom.

"Sure," he agreed easily, carefully reaching out for Franny once again, and when she was transferred from my arms into his, he kissed her softly, and…and there was an undeniable look of contentment in his small blue eyes, a sigh of relief as he gazed at her reverently. And while Jessica searched through whatever disaster he'd made in the back, he simply watched his daughter, sleeping in his arms.

I turned away, feeling almost as if I were trespassing on some sort of…healing process, something he didn't need witnessed.

"So when's Ed getting back?" he asked as if he'd just remembered my presence.

"At the end of the month. I'm leaving for New York tomorrow to meet him."

"That's great, Bella," he whispered, being mindful not to disturb Franny. "Now we just have to wait for Masen and Alice's return."

When Jess returned with the gauze a minute later, I hugged them both and gave Franny's little curls another kiss.

"You hang in there, Jess," I whispered in her ear. "I'll see you at the end of the summer."

She squeezed my hand and met my eyes. "Take care, Bella. You never did need those apples to be beautiful."

OOOOOOOOOO

It had been a warm week in Forks, a week that reminded me of my first few summers here, when we'd spend endless days and nights by the river, laughing and splashing and making connections that would forever shape my days. I smiled now as I pedaled my bike, remembering eager dives off the foot-bridge, scary nights in tents, apples in my dress, and Sandy chasing me up trees I had no business climbing.

I looked down at her now. Her paws padded rhythmically at my side, tongue hanging out and wagging from left to right.

"Aww, girl, are you hot and thirsty? Want to stop for a little while?"

The last time I'd been to the river had been late summer of 1942 - with Edward - but it was such a beautiful day, one of those summer days when the sky is a pure, unapologetic blue, when the sun caresses your bare skin like a warm, gauze blanket, when the birds sing their love songs to one another, and the world just seems to smile all around you.

So I lay on top of the grass and closed my eyes, letting the heat prickle my arms and legs while listening to the sounds of the flowing stream and Sandy lapping up a mouthful at the river's edge. When I finally tore myself away, I gazed back at the foot-bridge longingly.

"We'll be back soon," I sighed.

It was a beautiful day.

Once again, I pedaled down the dirt road that would lead me to the Cullens' house, absently humming a tune to myself as I lifted my face to the golden sky. When the black car sped by, kicking up brown dirt and green leaves in its wake, it took me a couple of seconds to make out the driver. When I did, I stopped the bike and held it balanced between my legs, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.

I'd heard about the messages he tended to deliver personally, the telegrams the post office forwarded to him when they were for families in his parish.

I followed the car with my eyes, watching it unblinkingly, not breathing as it spiraled forward spitting up rich earth and lush leaves and making them all dance in the air behind it. About a quarter of a mile ahead, the dirt road split into two: a left turn would take it out of town, towards the main road leading out of the tiny community of Forks, while a right turn would take it towards a few of the town folk's farms, homes with families and loved ones in the war – homes like that of the Cullens'.

The car stopped.

"Turn left," I commanded in a harsh whisper, all sound abruptly stuck in my throat. "Turn left. Please, God, make it turn left."

Something between an angry cry of protest and a strangled whimper escaped me when the car turned right.

The bicycle fell out from under me, scratching my right leg as it fell and tripped me. I landed awkwardly over the bicycle, the hem of my dress high over my thighs. Yet I simply sat there, watching the trail of blood crawl down my leg and seep into my white bobby sock turning it a bright shade of red. Sandy circled me a few times before she began to whimper.

"_Dogs have a sixth sense, Bella."_

"_Bella, get down from that tree!"_

"_You're breaking my heart…"_

"…_I'll hold it safe within my palms…"_

Seconds turned into years. With heavy, stiff limbs that seemed to belong to someone else, I forced myself to my feet, and ignoring the sharp stab of pain radiating from the gash on my leg, I righted the bicycle and climbed back on.

At first, my feet propelled the pedals around slowly and cautiously, the way I used to ride when I was five-year-old Isabella Swan and Charlie Swan was just teaching me to ride on two wheels. Then second by second, my legs moved faster. The pedal rotated furiously in time with my racing heart. Sandy lagged far behind, barking and crying. My lungs protested. My legs ached. Yet still I pedaled.

And all the while, I made deals in my head.

_I'll be a better person._

_I won't judge my mother._

_I won't judge Papa Phil._

_I'll be a better daughter to Charlie._

_I'll work myself to the bone in volunteer work until this war is over - for the rest of my life even._

When the magnificent Evergreen came into view, I choked back a sob of relief. The black car wasn't anywhere in sight.

"_Do you know what an anomaly is?"_

The huge tree with its golden conifers and evergreen leaves so much like his eyes, the tree with the wide, thick trunk that blocked out half of the house in the distance. I released the captive breath in my lungs, sighing unevenly, a long, protracted, shaky sigh that came from deep within my very soul and left my body spent and exhausted.

When I neared the tree, able to see beyond its thick trunk, the black car was there, like a vision from hell with the heavenly sun shining a spotlight over it.

"No," I breathed. "Please, no."

This time, when the bike fell out from under me, scratching me once more in the exact same place, I untangled myself and took off sprinting while Sandy whimpered and cried at my heels.

"Not Edward. Please not Edward. Anyone but Edward."

It was monstrous of me, yes. Evil. Selfish. And even as I said it, some part of me realized that I was sanctioning the death of my best friend and my big brother – because that's what he was in so many ways. I was making deals with the lives of someone else's wife and daughter, someone else's husband and father.

Yet I kept right on begging.

"Please not Edward."

A few feet from the house, the screen door jerked open, and Jasper ran out, eyes wide and wild, chest heaving. Yet he was upright, and that was enough to tell me that the car wasn't there for Alice. Alice was safe.

Alice was alive.

"Not Edward. Please, not Edward," I breathed, my eyes intently on the doorframe as Jasper gripped my arms and brought me to a full stop.

"Bella, Bella, hold on. Hold on, honey," he murmured.

I shoved him aside and stumbled up the steps, jerking open the screen door.

Rose was laying over the small couch, clinging to Esme who sat next to her. She sobbed wildly while an almost two-year old MJ pulled on her arm and cried at her feet. Carlisle, pale-white and with tears streaking down his cheeks stood behind them, one hand on either woman's shoulder.

"No!" Rose cried over and over. "No, no, no!"

And as horrible and evil as I now knew myself to be, I thanked God. While relief washed over me, flooding my veins and filling my every extremity, making me almost light-headed with gratitude, I closed my eyes and gave thanks. And able to breathe again, I could now focus on the horror, on the truth of what was happening, what _had_ happened.

He'd fallen.

He'd lost.

My friend.

My brother.

"Rose!" I cried clapping a hand over my mouth as the undeniable relief gave way to a soul-searing pain that ripped through me, an anguish I'd never felt before, not even when I'd lost Jacob because Masen…Masen was my brother. Masen was _his_ brother.

A sob tore through me as I rushed to Rose's side.

"Oh Rose." I clung to her the way she clung to Esme, and then I wrapped my arms around both of them and held them, giving and receiving comfort. When little MJ continued crying, bewildered, I picked him up, my tears falling harder when I realized that Masen would never hold him. MJ would never meet the man in the pictures that his mom always showed him, the man she'd taught him to call, "Daddy." He'd never know the man she'd told him would be home someday soon to take care of him.

"MJ," I breathed through my tears, holding him tightly and burying my face into his warm, soft neck. "I'm so sorry, MJ."

"Bella."

There was something in the way he said my name that made my skin prickle, something that made my entire frame tremble as if a shock of cold air had just hissed its way into the room.

I looked up at Carlisle. He met my gaze through eyes full of unimaginable agony, his bottom lip quivering while the sobs shook him from head to feet.

"Bella, sweetheart…take a seat." His hand reached for mine, and I instinctively took a step back, away from him.

For the first time, Esme looked up, green eyes so much like those of both of her sons', now red and so swollen that they were nothing more than two agonized slits. Another shudder ran through me.

"Bella…come here," she sobbed, voice raspy and broken, her gaze full of terror and loss and torture and pain and...and sympathy.

Bewildered, my head whipped over to the other side of the room, to where Jasper stood next to the Reverend, the man who'd brought this with the telegram he held in his hand. Jasper's face was covered by his hands, and I watched as he raked his fingers through his eyes and down his stubbly cheeks.

"Bella," he choked, "come here, honey."

"No."

My eyes swept the room, traveling from one devastated face to the other.

"Come here, Bella."

My grip on MJ tightened, and I bounced him in my arms, trying my best to comfort his childish fears just as I'd done for Franny a short while ago.

"Shh, MJ. Shh. Aunty Bella's here."

"Bella, please," Esme pleaded before dissolving into uncontrollable sobs that wracked her entire frame. Carlisle moved around the couch and picked her up, holding her against him when her legs gave out.

"Bella, please listen," he asked, and only then did I note the telegram fisted in his right hand.

"Isabella…"

Brows furrowed in confusion, my gaze traveled back and forth between Carlisle and the Reverend. Over and over before my eyes were able to understand what my mind refused to.

"_Noooo,"_ I exhaled in one long, painful breath. I shut my eyes tight and shook my head quickly from side to side like a spoiled child about to throw a tantrum, a child who'd just been told she had to give back her most prized possession, the most beautiful thing she'd ever have in her life. My arms started shaking so badly that I had to set MJ down before I dropped him.

All the while, I kept shaking my head.

I reopened my eyes. "No."

"Bella…" Jasper whispered. "Bella…I'm…I'm so sorry…so, so..." He took a couple of tentative steps towards me.

"No." Taking a couple of steps back, I made sure I remained out of his reach as I looked all around me wildly. "It's not Edward. It's not."

Rushing over to Rose, I hugged her now limp and unresponsive body tightly to me, trying to make everyone else in the room understand. This was her pain, not mine. _Her_ loss, not _mine_.

I kissed the top of her head over and over, wrapping myself around her, supporting her in her grief.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry."

"Bella…Bella, there were two telegrams. It's both of them, Bella," Jasper sobbed. "Both of them."

Again, I shut my eyes tightly against his lies, refusing to give into the abyss of panic threatening to swallow me whole.

"No, you're wrong. You're wrong, Jasper."

I remember pushing away from Rose and looking at them all one by one through eyes that no longer recognized them - this confused and broken family.

"No," I hissed. "You're wrong. You're all _wrong!_"

"Bella, honey, please come here," Esme pleaded, reaching for me once more. "Please."

"You're wrong!" I fisted my hair. "He promised! He promised he'd come back no matter what! He swore!"

"Isabella, no one can make that promise," the Reverend preached. "Only God can-"

"Go to hell!" I cut him off. "What do _you_ know? I'd feel it! I'd _feel_ it!" I yelled, gripping my chest and suddenly fueled by the most intense anger I'd ever imagined. "If it was him, I'd feel it! Even if he had to crawl! Even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees, he said! And I'd feel it!"

And unable to take any more, I tried to run past them, out of that house full of its sadness and its lies, full of tears for the wrong person because he'd _sworn_ to me. He'd _sworn_.

"No!"

I made it as far as the porch steps before someone wrapped their arms around my waist and pulled me back.

"No!"

And gazing at the old, magnificent tree, at the anomaly where I'd first given my heart away, everything else went black.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: It Could Happen To You (1944) by Jo Stafford:**

_**Hide your heart from sight  
Lock your dreams at night  
It could happen to you**_

_**Don't count stars  
Or you might stumble  
Someone drops a sigh  
And down you'll tumble**_

_**Keep an eye on spring  
Run when church bells ring  
It could happen to you**_

_**All I did was wonder  
How your arms would be  
And it happened to me**_

**We're on track to have this story finished by the end of the year or so.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**I'll see you all next week.**


	58. Chapter 57 - Holding On

**A/N: My sincere thanks to those who continue to give me their thoughts and their support, and to those who've stuck around and allowed me to tell the story my way. We should be done by the end of the year. **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 57 – Holding On**

My eyes slid open with such heaviness - with a congestion so thick it wrapped my mind in a murky fog that shrouded the outer perimeter of every single one of my thoughts. Staring up at the white ceiling above me, I was only vaguely aware that there was something just beyond the peripheral edges of the hazy mist - something that required my ability to think…something…that…

The sound of panting and the heat of shallow breathing against my cheek provided a well-timed distraction. My eyes shifted sideways, and the edges of my mouth curled up at the sight of the hairy, tan muzzle mere inches away. We watched one another quietly, and when her tongue extended outward and flattened itself against my cheek, the action was both familiar and comforting.

"Sandy," I smiled, closing my eyes before drifting off once more.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The weight over my feet felt dense and snug: a blanket of fur keeping me warm and cocooned - keeping me safe. If I shifted, the weight shifted with me. If I picked up my head, she tensed and perked up her ears, gazing at me through pensively dark orbs. When I lay over the pillow and closed my eyes again, I felt her body relax.

OOOOOOOOOO

I got up and went to the bathroom, and when I returned to bed, there was an abstract recognition of the things occurring around me: the comings and goings of others, hushed voices, quiet whispers, all taking place on the outskirts of discordant dreams where memories of past muddled together with moments of now.

"_How many fingers do I have up?"_

"_Uhm…two?"_

…

"_You've seen the Zepellin?"_

"_Yes."_

"_What was it like?"_

…

Carlisle wrapped his fingers around my wrist and counted while Esme adjusted the blankets around me.

"_She's still my dog!" _

_"Told you she would be. Dogs are devoted creatures; they have true and loyal hearts that never forget the ones they love, no matter what..."_

"True and loyal hearts never forget…" I murmured while Jasper sat in a nearby chair, elbows resting over his thighs and his head in his hands as Mrs. Cope busied herself around the room.

In between it all, a beautiful voice murmured quiet promises in my ear.

"_This ring here has my heart and soul wrapped around it…"_

"_Even if I have to crawl, Bella, I'll be back…even if I have to crawl…"_

"Take a few sips, Bella," Mrs. Cope coaxed while holding a glass of water to my mouth. "One at a time. There you go, honey. All gone."

The water washed its way down my parched throat like a summer shower - like the smooth rush of the river where we'd all played as children.

_"Bella, when you're twenty-one, I'll be twenty-three and long gone from here."_

"Gone to where?" I wondered before closing my eyes and warming my feet under Sandy.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next time awareness roused me, I opened my eyes and found Mother watching me from the wooden chair in the room, looking beautiful and elegant as ever with her shapely legs crossed, her hair in a stylish do, and her two-piece skirt suit perfectly tailored to her lovely figure.

Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I rested my back against the soft pillow while self-consciously raking my fingers through the tangles I felt in my hair. I looked down at myself, expecting the wrinkled clothing from a few days ago and instead found one of my warm, clean nightgowns. Sandy quietly stared at me from the foot of the bed.

"Isabella, darling," Mother smiled softly, "thank God. I was beginning to think you'd never wake."

She stood and wrapped her jeweled arms around my shoulders, the scent of her expensive perfume surrounding me and conjuring an image of Papa Phil's secretary standing guiltily in the middle of the hotel room with her flowery-sweet perfume cloying at my nostrils.

Being mindful not to rumple her jacket, I lightly placed my hands around Mother's delicate waist. "Mother, thank you for the nightgown."

"Oh...of course. You've slept so long." She delivered a quick kiss to the top of my head before pulling away.

"Have I?" My voice sounded like that of a stranger's, unfamiliar and hoarse.

"Goodness, yes. Isabella..." For a few moments, she seemed unsure as to what to say or do next. Her hands flitted around nervously before she settled for taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed.

"How are you, Mother? It's been almost a year since we've seen each other."

"I know, darling," she frowned apologetically. "I wanted to come see you in May when Philip came, but the timing simply wasn't right."

"And now it is? It's been three years since you last visited Forks. What brings you back now?"

Again, she shifted uneasily, unable to hold my gaze for more than two seconds at a time. The fingers on her right hand anxiously toyed with the diamond links on her left wrist.

"How are you feeling, Isabella?"

"I'm not feeling too well, Mother, not too well at all," I admitted. "We've lost Masen, who was like my brother. Rose has lost her husband, and little MJ will never meet his father." A rogue tear crept down my cheek. "Esme and Carlisle have lost a son, and Edward…Edward has lost his brother, and now _he's_ missing somewhere behind enemy lines, and I don't even know if he knows about Masen. No, I'm not feeling too well at all."

A few more tears skimmed down my face while Mother eyed me through furrowed brows, her perfectly red lips slightly parted as if debating her next words. She then extended her sparkling finger, wiping away my tears before picking up my hand and encasing it inside both of hers.

"Oh Isabella," she sighed. "Esme and Carlisle warned us that you appeared to be having a difficult time accepting the truth. Sweetheart, Edward isn't..._missing_," she enunciated slowly, and I recall marveling at how easily his name fell from her ruby red lips when in the past, she'd always avoided it like the plague. "Now, I can imagine how hard that must be for you to accept, but you have to face it. We'll go home to New York," – she decided, drawing in a breath that straightened her spine regally – "and you'll rest there until you feel better. And in time, you'll move on," she reassured me, patting my hand. "You'll put all this behind you and go on with your life."

"Go on…" I echoed. "I'll go on with my life."

"Yes," she smiled encouragingly. "That's exactly what you'll do. I'm sure that's what Edward would've wanted you to do."

"You're sure," I restated.

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted you to waste away like a-"

"You're poison."

There was a moment of absolute silence when all I could hear was Sandy's anxious panting.

"Pardon me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"You. You're a poisonous snake. A beautiful yet sharp-toothed, hissing, poisonous snake," I elaborated.

For a few seconds, she simply watched me, her pretty mouth wordlessly half open. Then she seemed to recover herself.

"Isabella, I understand that you're upset, sweetheart, but that's no excuse to-"

"Don't call me sweetheart," I warned. "Don't you dare call me sweetheart. You're the _last_ person in the world allowed to call me sweetheart, and you know nothing of what Edward _wants_, so don't you dare speak as if you do."

I wrenched my hand from between hers, and as her eyes flashed down and back up, her nostrils flared. Yet she must've seen something worse than flaring nostrils in my expression - something that made her abruptly jump to her feet as if the bed had burned her backside.

At my feet, Sandy raised herself onto all fours, the hairs on her back stiff and straight while a low growl rumbled in her chest.

"Despite our differences, Isabella, I'm your mother," Mother pointed out, "and you _will_ respect me. Now, I hate that you have to go through this, but believe it or not, I do know what's best for you - which is why I'm here to take you home to-"

"To what, to gloat?" I tried to stand, but my legs refused to cooperate. "Or to pretend for a day or two that you give a damn about what happens to Edward before you turn around and call Peter?"

"Of course I give a damn!" she cried, yet with every tear that rolled down her rouged cheeks, my anger simply intensified. "Do you really believe that I'm that heartless? Do you really think I would've ever wanted this for you?"

"No, what you wanted was for me to _whore_ myself out to the highest bidder the way you did! All these years, you've cared _nothing_ for me beyond what selling me off to the right person for the right price would've gotten you: acceptance into a world that _never_ respected you - that never _wanted_ you!" I spit.

"That's not true, Isabella!" she retorted. "All I've ever done has been for your own good! I know you're hurting right now, but that doesn't give you permission to speak to me-"

My chuckles cut her off sharply. "You know nothing, Mother, of what I may be feeling at the moment! You have absolutely no god damn clue about what I've _ever_ felt! We've been strangers from the very beginning, and I see no reason to continue this farce of a relationship. Now, get out. I _never_ want to see you again."

"Isabella-"

"GET OUT!"

Sandy started barking.

"Listen to me!" Mother stomped.

"GET OUUUT!" I howled. "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! _GET OUUUT!"_ I choked on my tears, yet I kept screaming wildly while at my side, Sandy's howls joined in the fray. "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

I squeezed my eyes shut and clapped my hands over my ears, yelling and screaming my command for what felt like hours until a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, and then another pair of soft, warm arms joined the first set, accompanied by quiet, gentle assurances which finally helped to ease me into nothingness once more.

OOOOOOOOOO

My eyes reopened to the sight of Mrs. Cope walking across the room with a dress in her hands. She laid the simple, pleated black dress with slightly puffed short sleeves and a pointed collar, over the bed next to me. Smoothing it down carefully, she sighed, and I watched numbly as two almond-shaped tears trickled down her plump cheeks.

"What is that for?" I rasped, my throat tight and raw.

A small, quiet gasp escaped Mrs. Cope. She shifted her wet and glassy eyes to me.

"You're awake," she breathed. "Everyone will be so relieved."

Slowly, I pulled myself into a sitting position and shifted my feet to the side of the bed, limbs aching and protesting, yet this time, they cooperated. Remnants of the fog that had encased itself around my mind slowly gave way to an obscure, surreal perception, as if I'd finally escaped the murky haze only to be trapped at the bottom of a clear yet threatening river from which I could only slowly emerge.

"Mrs. Cope, how long have I been up here?"

Her eyes were full of sympathy when she looked at me. "Six days, honey."

My stomach lurched, and I wrapped my arms around my midsection to prevent all my insides from expelling themselves. Mrs. Cope rested her hand on my back, stroking and lulling me with quiet words of comfort.

"You'll be okay, honey. You'll be okay. You just need some fresh air. I'm sure…I'm sure Edward wouldn't have wanted you to lock yourself up here," she said shakily.

And despite the way her words made me wince, I knew them to be at least partly true.

"No, you're right. I'm sure he doesn't want me to just hide up here until he returns."

There was an unfathomable sadness in Mrs. Cope's eyes. Her bottom lip trembled weakly.

"Let's wash you up, Bella."

She escorted me to the bathroom down the hall, and I stepped inside, going through the motions of the necessities. When I emerged, she was waiting for me outside the door to escort me back to my room - to…Edward's room.

Sitting back down on the bed, I moved stonily while Mrs. Cope handed me clean undergarments and then guided the dress over my head. Reaching for the hairbrush, she pulled it gently through the snags in my hair.

"Today is…the funeral."

I nodded. "How is Rose?"

"As well as can be expected," she sighed. "Esme and Carlisle are getting ready, but they're anxious to see you. So is Philip."

"Papa Phil is here?" I asked, yet in the same moment, I remembered seeing him at some point, sitting in the chair across from me, his usually bright blue eyes dull and red-rimmed.

"Yes. He should be here in a short while, and your…mother," she said, clearly attempting not to spit out the word, "will meet us at the church. Rose and little MJ are getting ready in their room." Her voice broke. "Once I'm done here, I'll go check on them."

I reached up and took the brush, holding her hand and smiling softly. "Thank you, Mrs. Cope, for taking care of me this week - for all the care you've always given me."

"Oh, Bella," she sobbed quietly. "I just want you to be alright."

"I _am_ alright," I assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know I worried all of you, but I'm better now. I promise. Now, I think I'll go check on Rose and MJ."

She looked at me through unsure eyes. "Are you sure? You can rest a bit longer if you'd like. The funeral isn't until-"

"I've rested enough. I'm fine, Mrs. Cope. Would you mind feeding Sandy for me? I don't think she's left the room much, has she?"

"No," she smiled sadly. "She's barely left your side, especially since that incident with your…alright, if you're sure. Sandy come."

Sandy jumped off the bed, and kneeling, I placed a soft kiss on my faithful dog's head. "You're a good girl."

Standing by the door, Mrs. Cope snorted. "'Least she listens now. I remember a time when God himself couldn't command that dog."

"Edward first taught her to obey. He'll be proud of her when he returns." It was automatic, nothing more than natural the way the words formed themselves.

Dissolving into more tears, Mrs. Cope turned and disappeared into the hallway followed by Sandy.

OOOOOOOOOO

Knocking first and waiting for a reply that didn't come, I walked into the room that Rose shared with MJ – Masen's old room. She sat on the bed in nothing more than her thin, black slip, staring listlessly at the old, wooden floor where MJ sat quietly playing with his wooden cars.

"Rose."

There was no response.

"Aunty Bella! Red like your car!" MJ held up a red car for my approval.

"It is red, and it's very much like my car, yes," I smiled.

Pleased with my response, he grinned widely, the apples of his cheeks dimpling just as his father's and grandfather's tended to do when grinning wide.

"Rose," I breathed, taking a seat next to her. When she still didn't react, I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. Finally, she angled herself sideways and embraced me.

"Oh Bella." She buried her face into my shoulder, and I felt the heat of her tears seep through my dress. "We've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry you've worried for me on top of everything else. I guess I just needed…time, but I'm alright now."

Her bottom lip quivered, nostrils flaring with emotion when she looked up. "I understand completely," she whispered hoarsely. "If it weren't for having to care for MJ, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed either."

For a long while, we simply held one another while MJ sang the happy songs of little children who blessedly know nothing of loss. When she pulled away again, her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, yet her brow furrowed, and she tipped her head sideways.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded and stood. "You get dressed, and I'll get MJ ready, alright?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but after a couple of seconds, she sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Bella."

Lifting MJ off the floor, I whisked him to the bathroom for a bath, and when we returned, we found Rose in the same position we'd left her, staring at the floor, undressed. After outfitting MJ in a pair of dark wool short pants and a crisp, white button down, I sat him back onto the floor with his toys and proceeded to help Rose with her dress, just as Mrs. Cope had helped me with mine a short while ago.

"They're trying to get ahold of Alice to let her know," Rose mumbled, "but it'll take some time with her unit moving around Normandy. After what happened a couple of years ago with the five Sullivan brothers at the Battle of Guadalcanal, the War Department will allow her to come home from the front, since she's the last surviving..."

"She won't come home." I shook my head. "We all know that. She'll do her mourning and honoring by staying to help those boys, by winning this war."

Rose didn't answer right away. "You're right," she snorted. "She's a Cullen after all."

There was a knock, and Esme walked in, rushing to our side and enveloping us both in her warm arms. I held onto her tightly while she kissed Rose and me on the cheek.

When she pulled away, I noted painfully that her beautiful face seemed to have aged twenty years in six days. There was no animation in her expression, and the light that had always shone in her eyes was extinguished, drawing into sharp focus what had always been only slight laugh lines and soft creases in her forehead.

"Mrs. Cope told us you'd woken. We were so worried about you. "

"I'm sorry, Esme."

"Don't apologize." She smiled bravely, her hands smoothing down my hair. "We were in town with the Reverend making some final arrangements for this afternoon's service. If and when their…bodies are ever returned,"- a tear glistened in the corner of her right eye – "we'll hold another small service then, but...Bella, I'm sorry that we couldn't wait for you to wake up to make these-"

"No, no, that's fine," I reassured her. "Please, don't worry about me. I know you have things to take care of."

And much as Rose had done a few minutes earlier, Esme studied me, angling her head sideways while the now deep lines on her forehead creased all the more. She cupped my cheek.

"Philip will be here soon. He's…helping Carlisle with the arrangements. And Charlie has called a few times. When you're able, you should call him back. He's worried. He said he would've come if he'd been able, but…"

"I'll call him shortly."

My poor dad, I thought. In a different world, it would've been him here with me. Instead, my life had relegated him to a telephone call every now and then – a weekly visit yearly in my spare time.

"Rose, do you need help with anything else?"

"No, Bella," Rose murmured, sitting on the bed once again. "Thank you."

"Then…I'll just go back to my room. Esme, can you please ask Papa Phil to meet me there when he arrives?"

"Of course, Bella," Esme smiled. When she kissed my cheek, lips warm and gentle, my heart squeezed so painfully that when I returned to Edward's room, I shut the door quickly behind me, resting my back on it as I clutched my chest and breathed in and out, attempting to stave off the panic lurking just at the outer edges of my world. I knew I had to stay calm. I'd left the fog behind, and I could think now. I could _feel_. And what I felt when I lay a palm over my chest was a hurting yet beating heart, its rhythm quick and sure.

"I won't be far behind…" I murmured.

I hadn't seen the telegram, but I _did_ know what it said - just as I knew that it was wrong.

He'd sworn to me. He'd _sworn_, and besides, my own heart was still beating.

So I fought through the nausea and the agony, closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach, wading through the torturous river that threatened to submerge me once more because if _he_ were here next to me, I knew it wasn't what he'd want. He'd saved me from that river twice; he wouldn't want me finally succumbing to it.

Exhausted from the struggle, I lay over the bed again, and when Sandy jumped on my feet, I rested my head and closed my eyes.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The next time I woke, Papa Phil was in the room, standing at the foot of the bed watching me. Like Mother, he was impeccably dressed in his black, three-piece suit. Yet unlike Mother, there was no impassivity, no mask of indifference marking his features. His sorrow was etched in the downward slope of his mouth - in dull, red eyes and in thick greys at his temples that hadn't been there when I'd last seen him a couple of months earlier.

I went right to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he held me stiffly and warily.

"I'm so sorry, Papa, so, so sorry."

At first, he said nothing, yet I could feel the tension stiffening his shoulders, making his chest heave. Then slowly, his grip tightened, and he dropped his head to my shoulder while his own shoulders, shoulders that had always been straight and strong, finally shook with unrepressed grief.

"I'm sorry, too, Isabella," he whispered, stroking my hair. When he pulled away, he held my gaze stoically. "Everyone sends their condolences. Peter asked me to convey to you his deepest sympathies. He would've wanted to attend the funeral but wasn't able to obtain a pass." When I didn't respond, he continued. "It's time to go. Are you ready?"

I swallowed and slowly shook my head.

Papa Phil sighed. "I know it's difficult, Isabella, but we'll be there to support you."

"Papa…" – I held his gaze – "I'm not going to the funeral."

He expelled a long, seemingly painful breath. "Isabella, you have to go."

"No, Papa Phil. My heart aches for Masen," – despite my attempt to remain stolid during this conversation, my voice broke – "and for Rose and Esme and Carlisle and…and you. And I will honor him and say goodbye to him in my own way, but Edward is _not_…dead."

"For the love of God, Isabella," he breathed raggedly.

"He swore to me that he'd come back," I added quickly, "even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees. Right now, he's most likely trying to find his way back to me, I know it. I can _feel_ it."

Papa Phil sat heavily on the bed, unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling on the steamed crease-lines on his trousers. He raked a hand down his face, and when he looked up at me, he appeared more exhausted than I'd ever seen him.

"Isabella," he said gently, "I've seen the telegrams. They _both_ say killed in action, darling, not missing in action."

I wanted to remain strong in front of Papa Phil because I knew how he operated; I knew why he was such a successful businessman: he saw through signs of weakness easily, and he exploited them. But those words spoken aloud made me cringe. My shoulders curved inward, and my arms wrapped around my midsection.

"I'm sorry, Isabella. I don't want you to hurt, but neither will I allow you to continue hiding up here."

"It's a mistake," I said calmly. "They've made some sort of mistake. I can feel it. I'd feel it if he was really gone. My heart…my heart is still beating perfectly."

"Isabella, I'm sorry; I truly am. This isn't what I would've wanted for you or for…them, but you've been locked up here for days, and it's time you started facing facts."

Pressing my lips together tightly to keep from lashing out at him, I padded on bare feet to the bedroom window, gazing out at the dark clouds that hung low in the sky and capped the mountain tops in filmy grey gauze. Large, heavy raindrops pitter-pattered over the window, making a horizontal pattern across the pane.

"You're right. I won't keep hiding up here. I'm sure that's not what Edward wants of me right now."

"Jesus, Isabella-"

I turned around. "But I refuse to attend a funeral for a man who isn't dead."

Papa Phil stood and re-buttoned his suit jacket, handing down his decree. "Isabella, you're going. That's the end of it."

I held his gaze steadily. "Papa Phil, I'm sorry, but you'll have to physically drag me out of here and then hold me there kicking and screaming the entire time."

His nostrils flared, eyes flashing. "I won't drag you, Isabella, but if you don't go, you'll regret it. Mark my words. Your mind won't allow you the closure you need, and not having closure…not having closure is a difficult thing to live with. Believe me."

Hands fisted at my sides so tightly that my nails dug into my skin, I forced myself to stand straight and hold up my chin.

"Very well," he hissed after a couple of minutes. "I think it would be better for you to go, but I won't force you. I'll be by afterwards to say goodbye. I wish I could stay longer, but I've got important business in New York."

"I understand," I breathed in relief.

"Should I ask your mother to accompany me when I return?"

"No."

He nodded slowly. "Isabella, you're more than welcome to return to New York with us. It is…it is your home despite everything."

And despite everything, I could hear the hope thick in his voice.

"Thank you, Papa, but I can't leave Forks - not yet," I said gently. "He'll try to get word out as soon as he can to let us know that he's okay, and he knows that I'll wait here for him. And if he's been taken…prisoner," my voice shook, "the War Department will only inform his next of kin. I have to stay."

There was incredulousness mixed with resignation in his expression, and when he walked over to me, he did so very slowly, like a tiger approaching a skittish kitten. Eyes full of concern, he reached out and gently curved his hands around my shoulder, kissing my forehead with the same tenderness with which Esme kissed my cheek earlier.

"I suppose…you need time," he murmured. "Very well, Isabella," he sighed. "Please, please take care of yourself, and if there's anything you need, anything at all, let me know."

"I will, Papa. Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOO

A short while later, when the house was completely silent, I made my way downstairs and out the front door.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, soaking me through before I even reached the magnificent evergreen. By the time I reached the river where we'd spent our happiest days, every last inch of me was saturated. While the rush of white water resonated in the background, I lay in my black dress on the dampened grass and closed my eyes, allowing the rain to mix with my tears for the boy who'd only been allowed a few short years of manhood, who'd been blessed with a beautiful son he'd only ever see from the place he'd surely earned in the clouds.

_"How many fingers do I have up?" Masen asked, lifting two fingers up in front of me, eyes as green as those of the boy with whom I'd already unwittingly fallen in love. "Well?" he prompted._

_"Oh! Uhm, two?"_

_"Are you asking or telling me? Follow my finger with your eyes. What's today's date?"_

_"Uh…July first, 1934?"_

…

_"__Shh, it's okay, Little Sister," Masen soothed me after yet another incident of near-drowning. "You'll be fine. Next time you jump while in the river, how 'bout making sure you're not surrounded by rocks? Now, you know the drill. What's your name?"_

_"Isabella Marie Dwyer."_

_"What day is it?"_

_And after another series of questions, I'd pointed out that I was bleeding all over him, yet as always, he'd quickly reassured me._

_"What's a little blood between little sisters and big brothers?" He'd chuckled._

"Little sisters and big brothers," I smiled. "You _were_ my big brother."

And for the next couple of hours, I smiled up at the rain, allowing my mind to drift back to memories.

OOOOOOOOOO

The days and weeks passed. Despite the thick and heavy cloud that had formed over the Cullen household, lives had to go on. A war was still being fought. The latest news continued to pour in from the front, and I only vaguely absorbed most of it. The Allies had finally managed to break through the hedgerows in Normandy and were liberating the small French villages one by one. Slowly making their way towards the French capital of Paris, they were being helped along the way by the French Resistance, who since the beginning of the war had been conducting acts of sabotage against the Nazis at every turn. Now, the world held their collective breath, hoping for an end to the European war by year's end.

Jasper had his canine training center to keep him busy. Carlisle had his practice. Rose had MJ to take care of. Esme had the house and her volunteer work. And I spent my days helping them all as much as I could, keeping my hands and my mind busy. But at night…at night, the dark river would threaten to drown me, and I'd wake up kicking and screaming, trying to keep my head above water.

In the last week of July, the first letter arrived from the Adjutant General's office of the War Department. I held Rose's hand as she sat on the porch steps and read it while Sandy kept MJ busy.

_It is with deep regret that I am writing to confirm the death of your husband, Corporal Masen Cullen, who was killed in action on July 7, 1944 in the European Arena. A telegram announcing his death was sent to you, his wife._

_Unfortunately, reports on our brave men who have given their lives in battle cannot reveal their heroic actions which led to their death, but please know that Corporal Cullen honored his family and his nation in the final moments of his life._

_I fully realize that there is nothing I can say or do that will in any way minimize your sense of loss or lessen your sorrow, but I believe the day will come when the memory that he heroically gave his life in the service of his country may be of sustaining comfort to you._

_I want you to know that my deepest sympathy is with you…_

The following week, the next letter arrived, this one addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle Cullen. While I turned the soil in the victory garden behind the house, Esme walked over and stood behind me.

"The letter is here, Bella. Would you like to read it?" she finally asked.

I looked up, and the resignation in her eyes told me all I needed to know of the letter.

"No, thank you, Esme," I said quietly, and digging my foot into the rake to bury it further into the ground, I continued turning the soil.

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, I awoke in a bed dampened by my own perspiration. As I sat straight up, my chest heaved, and I struggled for every breath while my heart stampeded in my chest. I placed a hand over where it beat furiously for him.

The nightmare of me drowning had become commonplace, a nightly occurrence which I'd come to expect, yet this…this dream had been something completely different.

It was a dream I'd had many times in the past couple of years.

_Edward moved over me, his body joined with mine while my legs wrapped tightly around his waist and his moist mouth worked its way from my lips, skimming down my throat to my neck and then further down where he'd take one of my small mounds and suck gently, tongue circling and making me cry out. _

"_Edward…" I breathed while his rhythmic thrusts took me to a heaven I'd only known one night of my life. My hands lost themselves in his soft copper hair, gripping and pulling. Picking up my head, I found his mouth waiting, and our tongues moved together to the same music as the rest of our bodies._

"_Edward…"_

_Evergreen eyes met mine, his lean hips pushing and pulling against me. _

"_Don't forget…even if I have to crawl, Bella…even if I have to crawl…"_

Heart still pounding, I rose out of bed and quietly made my way downstairs, breathing in deeply through my nostrils when I finally made it onto the porch. My legs gave out on the steps, and I dropped my head, resting it between my thighs to quell the dizziness while crickets and cicadas sang their summer songs.

Eventually, my pulse returned to normal, and my heart reverted to a slower rhythm. With eyes that could once again focus, my gaze swept over the blackened horizon before me, following the vague outline of the trees to the magnificent evergreen, and then beyond…to where the river waited…

"I won't forget…" I murmured.

When the door opened behind me, I didn't turn away from the dark, not even when Esme quietly took a seat next to me. In my mind's eye, I saw his tall figure emerge from the shadows, dressed in his Officer's uniform with his duffle bag swinging from his shoulder. A crooked grin formed on his lips - proving to the world that this was all just a long, horrible nightmare.

And while I waited for my dream to become reality, Esme took my hand in hers.

We sat silently side by side, lost in separate yet similar thoughts. When I finally turned my gaze to her, the moonlight silhouetted her beautiful profile: copper hair and eyes so similar to both her sons'…

"Did Masen know?" I murmured.

Esme squeezed my hand. "I never thought so, no, but…lately…I think he may have suspected. I think…the pictures we sent him of MJ…"

I nodded. "It's clear in the pictures, yes. Do you think…perhaps…he had a right to know?"

"A right to know?" she mused thoughtfully. "Perhaps. A necessity to know? No, I don't believe so."

"But…he died without knowing who his real father was."

"Carlisle and I…" she said shakily, "we told Philip that when Masen came of age, if he wanted him to know the truth, we wouldn't stand in his way. For his own reasons which I won't question or judge, he chose not to tell him. Either way, Masen had two parents who loved him unconditionally, who will _always_ love him unconditionally. He died knowing that."

I swallowed thickly and returned my gaze to the black void before us.

"When Papa Phil left Forks to build his fortune, did he leave knowing that you were…that he was going to be…?"

"No," she whispered. "He didn't know that I was with child. _I_ didn't know yet, and by the time he'd built his empire and returned, I'd married Carlisle, and we were raising three beautiful children."

"That's why he continued coming back to Forks year after year, so he could at least see Masen, even if he could never... It's why you and Carlisle felt obligated to come to the house, summer after summer, for the Independence Day Barbecues, for my birthday galas…even though it was obvious that it was uncomfortable for everyone involved. It was guilt and obligation."

"I'd like to think it was more than that for all involved. But once you came into our lives, it was also for you, Bella." I felt her gaze on me, and she squeezed my hand even tighter. "Don't ever doubt how much we all love you."

We were quiet again. The nighttime breeze whistled through our hair.

"He gave Edward all the care he didn't dare give his son, not without revealing everything." I sighed. "I know it's none of my business, but I feel as if it was their right to know, both Masen and Papa Phil's, from the very beginning, as well as Alice's right, and…and Edward's right."

I met her gaze. "You should've found a way to get notice to Papa Phil that you were expecting."

"Perhaps I should have."

"Masen would've figured it out when he came back and saw MJ in person. Alice and Edward will see it too when they return."

"Bella…" she sighed.

"How about Rose? She must see it as well. Will you ever tell her? Will you tell her that her son is really a Dwyer?"

"I…I don't know."

I stared at her.

"Oh Bella," she smiled sadly, tears in her eyes. "Perhaps you're right, and I'm wrong. I know you children like to think that we as parents have all the answers, but sometimes we don't," she sobbed. "Sometimes we just don't."

"Shh." I held her in my arms and stroked her long, copper hair. "Shh."

When she met my eyes again, the agony in them made it hard for me not to turn away.

"Bella…sweetheart, you can't keep holding on this way. It's not healthy."

I returned my gaze to the darkened night.

"I knows it's easier to talk about Edward as if he's still…but in the end, it'll just make it harder for you."

"Esme, I won't speak of Edward as if he's…gone."

"But he is, sweetheart."

I shook my head vehemently, swallowing back the bile in my throat.

"I don't feel it here." I lay my palm against my heart. "I'd feel it. Rose feels that Masen is gone. She's told me."

"You're not allowing yourself to feel it, Bella. I'm his _mother_," she stressed. "Don't you think I'd feel it too if he was alive?" There was an edge to her voice, impatience in her tone.

"Esme…I don't claim to know what it feels like to lose a son, but my love for Edward…his heart is mine, and my heart is his. One can't beat without the other," I shrugged, "not for long. I think…I think your pain from losing Masen is just so magnified, so overpowering right now, that it's clouding Edward's possibilities. I don't blame you. It must be very difficult. But it's making it impossible for you to see that-"

"Bella, no," she said much more forcefully. "My sons are both gone, and I can't let you keep doing this to yourself. It's not what Edward would've wanted!"

"And what do you think he wants?" I asked, my own impatience growing. "Before he left, he asked me to wait. Whenever he wrote, he asked me to wait. He _swore_ he'd return. What would you have me do, Esme, give up on him and marry someone else the way you did?"

"That's not fair, Bella." Her voice quivered.

"You're right; it's not. I'm sorry," I said remorsefully. "I'm sorry. I had no right to say that."

And despite the fact that we were still holding hands, a wall suddenly arose between us - not one built by what I'd just said. I knew that Esme wouldn't hold that against me. Her gaze was always full of sympathy, of so much pain on my behalf, and it was that very sympathy she had for me that had erected the wall and continued to add to it brick by brick. She ached for two sons gone forever, while I ached for the friend I'd never get a chance to call "brother," and for the man I was sure was lost behind enemy lines, trying to find his way home.

We were at an impasse, at a place where she'd never understand me, and I couldn't understand her. Despite his being thousands of miles away, Edward had always been my anchor. He'd been the one to keep me grounded, to keep me from straying one way or the other, to keep me from turning into Mother. Now, now my anchor was missing, and I felt myself drifting alone in the world.

"You're right," I said. "You're right, Esme. I can't simply sit here and wait for Edward to return."

Esme smiled sadly. "School will be starting again next month. Edward would want you to continue, Bella, to slowly find your footing again."

"You're right…" I agreed thoughtfully. "I have to find my footing…"

"_Where do I belong, Edward?"_

"_I'm not sure, Bella, but we'll figure it out…"_

I no longer belonged in the Cullen household; that had become obvious. Neither did I belong in the Dwyer house, nor at the university sitting in classrooms while my world fell apart around me. I was adrift, without a home, without a place, without my anchor…wandering around without a destination.

And no, I wouldn't simply wait to be told where I belonged. If he wasn't here to help me, I'd find out for myself. Yet in order to do so, I'd have to swallow my pride. I'd have to beg and plead.

"I'll find it."

But for him, I'd do anything.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AOI Playlist Song: **_**I'll Be Seeing You**_** (**On the playlist before, but I like it here. Recorded by many, but in this chapter, the Jo Stafford version comes to mind):**

_**I'll be seeing you  
In all the old familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces  
All day through  
In that small cafe  
The park across the way  
The children's carousel  
The chestnut trees  
The wishing well**_

_**I'll be seeing you  
In every lovely summer's day  
In everything that's light and gay  
I'll always think of you that way**_

_**I'll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you**_

**Have a good weekend. I'll be seeing you next week. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page. (As are my views on HEAs...)**


	59. Chapter 58 - Rising River

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful thoughts. We're almost there…**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 58 – Rising River**

_I was getting ready to get on my knees and examine her, the way I'd seen Pop do plenty of times to both people and animals – pick up one of her limbs, feel around it, and stare into her eyes and such. Figured it couldn't be too hard. But I suppose, unlike when I dove into the river to pull her out just a few moments earlier, I took too long to spring into action. _

_See, despite the fact that she looked just like a drowned river duck with her rich yellow dress sticking to her skinny self and her long dark hair all wild and stringy around her face…she had the prettiest golden eyes I'd ever seen - wide and sparkling and curious as she looked up and around at all of us - kind of like the eyes I would've imagined on one of dumb sister Alice's imaginary woodland nymph's had they actually existed, and…and then stupid Masen stepped over me and took over._

_Thing is, he totally did that on purpose, the jerk. Quick as he is, he must've caught me staring slack-jawed, but it was only because I couldn't stop thinking that maybe Mama and Alice had been right all along: maybe fairies did exist in the wild. _

_So here went my big brother acting all Pop-like, checking her vision and her coordination and then asking her a bunch of questions, pretending like he was just making sure that her brain was still functional when really, he was just purposely torturing me by keeping the little dizzying nymph with her darn spell-casting eyes here instead of letting her get back to her tree already. _

_And the whole time, I just stood there staring, unable to get my heart rate to slow down despite the fact that it'd been a full ten minutes already since I'd pulled her out of the water!_

"_Isabella Marie Swa- Dwyer, Isabella Marie Dwyer," the nymph said in this tiny, magical voice when the nosey bastard I call Brother asked her name._

_Hey Journal, you know Mr. Venezia who hangs around the mercantile with Mr. Stanley and a couple of the other menfolk in the back room, always playing cards and drinking "water" out of paper bags while Mrs. Stanley takes care of the store up front? _

_Well, couple of months ago, I was in the store with Pop getting something or other, and I happened to wander into the back while I waited for him, and Mr. Venezia was there with Mr. Stanley, looking at some magazines they quickly tucked behind their backs when they saw me. Anyhow, Mr. Venezia called me over, and when I approached, he patted me on the head and said in his thick accent:_

"_Eduardo, when you grow up, you make sure you remember to always tell the girls that __sono bellissime__, __and when you have a sweetheart, you call her 'bella mia.' Capisci?"_

_Before I could answer one way or the other, Pop stuck his head through the doorframe and gave me a look that had me out of that back room in no time. _

_My point is, the nymph said, "Isabella Marie," and all I heard was…"Bella." _

OOOOOOOOOO

I closed one of the many journals I'd brought with me and laughed aloud. This elicited quite a few curious glances from my fellow passengers currently dining in the restaurant car of the _Union Builder_ as it sped its way eastward. My eyes shifted sideways to the window where the evening landscape blurred by in a haze of muted colors, yet I didn't see the majestic trees or the glorious mountains being left far behind. In the shadows of the darkness, I saw a twelve-year-old copper-haired boy glaring down at me as if I'd just upended his entire life by doing nothing more than shivering cold and wet over the soft, moist earth.

"So that's how you came up with those names," I snorted quietly to myself. "Bella, the Woodland Nymph…"

With a quiet chuckle, I drew in a deep breath and returned my eyes to my lap, reopening the journal resting there. It was one of a few that had sat over Edward's desk for years, part of a stack that had grown with each successive entry.

_"Your journals were on your dresser – but I didn't peek," __I'd once assured him__._

"_You can, you know," __he'd said__. "There's nothing in there I haven't more or less admitted to..."_

So for the next two days, I read about a copper-haired boy who'd once rescued a girl he believed to be a nymph. Yet this nymph wasn't meant for him. You see, her rich mother had plans for her, and besides, he had plans of his own. So he lived his days and months. He rough-housed with his friends and his brother. He argued and teased his sister. He learned in school and got in trouble with his teachers. He helped his parents around the farm, the house, and the practice. And when summers came, the nymph would return to unsettle his life more and more with every year that passed. And one summer, she was so damn beautiful, he pushed her away and broke her heart to save her from himself. And another summer, when he gave up the struggle and told her he loved her, the nymph confessed she loved him too. And one winter, a war thousands of miles away arrived at their doorstep and changed everything.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as Mrs. Lewis opened the door for me, I saw that look on her face: that look of sympathy and condolence that for the past few weeks had marked everyone's features as soon as they looked at me.

"Miss Isabella!" She threw her arms around my neck. "I was so sorry to hear, Miss Isabella," she whimpered into my neck. "So, so sorry. He was such a good young man, so respectful and kind when we met him in Atlanta that spring back in '42."

I tried to pull away, but she held onto me and continued. "Yet aren't those the ones that are always taken too soon? And his brother too," she moaned. "That poor family."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lewis," I smiled half-heartedly, pulling away from her.

"The rest of the staff and I were glad to hear you'd be coming home, even though it was under such sad circumstances."

"Thank you. Mrs. Lewis, where is Mother?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.

"She's in her rooms. Would you like me to let her know you're home?"

"No." I gave a quick shake of the head. "No, thank you. I'd rather not…no, not just yet."

I saw the slight furrowing of Mrs. Lewis brows, the narrowing of her eyes. But she gave me a faint smile, and with a wink, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially,

"Alright, Miss Isabella. I'll be working on the other side of the house for the rest of the day anyway."

A slight chuckle escaped me. "Thank you again, Mrs. Lewis.

OOOOOOOOOO

I knocked softly before opening the door to Papa Phil's office, and as I turned the knob, I had the most disconcerting mental image of finding Papa Phil sitting on his leather chair with his secretary straddling his lap.

Thankfully, what I found instead was Papa Phil behind his desk with a handful of men gathered in chairs around him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Papa." I took a step back. "I didn't realize you were in a meeting."

"That's fine, Isabella," Papa Phil smiled softly as he and the rest of the men stood in unison, all buttoning the middle button of their suit jackets. "That's just fine." He motioned me in with a wave of his hand. "Come in."

"I don't want to interrupt…"

"It's no interruption," he insisted, motioning to one of his employees. "Ben, hand me that chair."

Ben Cheney, one of Papa Phil's employees and a man in around his early thirties, handed over an empty chair. When Papa Phil motioned me further in, I walked across the room and took a seat. The rest of the men followed, and as they adjusted their jackets and trousers, Ben leaned forward and gave me that look, speaking in a low voice.

"My wife and I were sorry to hear of your fiancé. Our sincere condolences and gratitude to the young man for all he gave in this war."

Digging my nails into my palms, I smiled and thanked him.

Papa Phil cleared his throat. "Johnson, please continue."

Johnson was another of Papa's employees, a balding and severe-looking thin man in about his late forties in whose eyes were reflected the thoughts of most middle-aged men of his time. He and the rest of the men gave on another quick, furtive glances, yet as none had the nerve to question Philip Dwyer, the meeting was hastily resumed.

And as they discussed the future of the railroads, I tried my best not to vibrate in my seat at the stroke of good luck I'd just received by having Papa Phil voluntarily invite me into one of his meetings.

"So what you're saying is that-"

"Mr. Dwyer, what we're saying is that if the forecasts are correct, once the war is over, all the railroads, not just yours, will be competing with the speed of airplanes and the comfort and convenience of personal automobiles and highways. The heyday of railroad travel is quickly coming to an end."

Papa Phil nodded slowly and thoughtfully.

"What do you suggest, Johnson?"

"I suggest we divest from the railroads immediately, as much as we're allowed to by law, and then we utilize those funds to break into the passenger aircraft industry. Start your own airline, sir, as soon as possible. You must strike into the market while you still can because soon it'll be too late to establish yourself-"

"I don't agree with that."

Every eye in the room suddenly landed on me - and none too happily.

Papa Phil was the first to speak. "What do you mean you don't agree, Isabella?"

As I'd witnessed Papa Phil do on more than one occasion when talking before a small group, I met every man's furrowed gaze one by one.

"You can't divest from the railroads now. As you men yourselves have stated, not only do civilians depend on the railroad as their main mode of transportation, but thousands upon thousands of troops depend on it every day to get everywhere from their next base or home to visit their loved ones…to the coasts for transport overseas – which is why the railroad is doing so well at the moment. But if you divest, the railroads will become even more crowded, and the ensuing chaos could have a detrimental effect on morale or even on the war itself."

The ensuing silence spread tensely across the room. Papa Phil kept his gaze on me, expressionless. After a minute, Johnson spoke up.

"Isabella, we all appreciate your…youthful opinions and your concern for both troops and civilians alike," he smirked, "but I think you're forgetting that we're running a business for profit, not a charity railroad."

"Of course I'm not forgetting that," I replied. Knowing how closely Papa Phil was watching me, I straightened my back, much as I'd seen Mother do throughout the years when dealing with the society wives who never quite stomached her for being a_divorcée_ – and a poor one at that.

"But beyond simply profiting, Dwyer Industries, as a large corporation, as an entity under obligation to so many, has a social responsibility-"

"Social responsibility?" Johnson scoffed. "What in the world is social responsibility? Isabella," - he looked over at his coworkers and snorted - "the only responsibility we have is a financial one to our shareholders. Now as this discussion might be beyond a young woman's comprehension, I suggest that you just sit there quietly and listen to the rest of-"

"And _I_ suggest, Johnson, that you stop yourself right there before you find yourself unemployed – which is exactly what will happen if you ever again speak to my daughter in that condescending manner. Is that clear?"

For a few seconds, Johnson's mouth simply hung agape as he stared at Papa Phil with a mixture of fear and mortification reddening his bony cheeks.

"Yes, Sir." He cleared his throat. "I do apologize."

"Please direct your apology towards _Miss Dwyer_, where it's required."

Johnson's eyes flickered my way begrudgingly, his lips pressing together tightly for a few seconds.

"I do apologize, Isa- Miss Dwyer," he floundered.

"It's quite alright," I assured him.

"Now Isabella," Papa Phil said in the next beat, "please expand on what you were saying about social responsibility."

And while I explained to Papa Phil and the rest of the men how the nation's dependence on the railroads made us socially responsible, whether we liked it or not, Papa Phil and _most_ of his employees listened closely.

"Consumers aren't likely to fly an airline run by a company who let them and the nation's troops down on the ground," I finished after a lengthy discourse.

Papa Phil nodded.

"That is…quite true," Ben agreed.

"So what would you suggest?" Papa Phil inquired.

I gave him the rest of my suggestions, and once I was done, everyone's eyes were firmly on me. Papa Phil took a deep breath and exhaled.

"I want every airline's history as well as financial numbers in front of me by tomorrow morning. Find out who may be looking for a financial influx of capital, and who may be in need of a silent partner. Get working on it now."

"Yes, sir," they all agreed simultaneously, hastily getting to their feet and exiting Papa Phil's office single file. Once the door was closed behind them, Papa Phil chuckled and standing, drew me into his arms.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to change your major?"

"Yes, sir," I smiled against his chest. "I'm sure."

"Very well, then," he sighed, and then pulling away, he gazed at me pensively. "I'm pleased you decided to come home; although, your stay will have to be of short duration since you do begin classes again in a few short weeks." The purposeful arch of his brow informed me in no uncertain terms that he fully expected me to continue my studies, regardless of anything else.

"I fully intend it to be a short visit, yes," I agreed.

He took his seat behind the desk again, and I walked over to the other side of the desk, taking one of the vacated seats there.

Linking his hands together over his large, mahogany desk, Papa Phil studied me.

"You look tired, Isabella."

"As do you," I retorted.

He snorted. "I know things have been difficult, but believe me when I say that it helps to keep your mind busy. It won't take away the…pain, but it will help dull it, and hopefully someday soon, you'll feel like yourself again. I'm sure that's what Edward would've wanted for you."

And once more today, I dug my nails into my hands and resisted the urge to scream.

Instead, I sat up straight in my chair, holding my head high and his gaze steadily while being mindful not to show him too much emotion. Any signs of weakness, any nervousness in either my expression or my posture would be a huge misstep. I was sitting across the desk from one of the nation's best negotiators, surreptitiously preparing to negotiate for my very life.

"Papa Phil," I began in a firm, sure voice, "you told me a few weeks ago, before you left Forks, that if there was anything I needed, anything at all, I should let you know."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but I knew him, and I knew he was already following all the different routes in which this conversation could go.

"Of course, Isabella," he responded sedately. "Let me know what you need, and we can discuss it."

"Well, Papa Phil, as you've just seen, I'm perfectly capable of holding my own in a discussion regarding the railroad. I have…ideas, and opinions on how to expand and grow the business beyond the war."

"That's wonderful," he grinned. "As I've said, you have a sharp mind, and if you ever wanted to join the family business, Isabella, I'd more than welcome it. Don't ever allow men like Johnson to intimidate you. Women like you will one day go very far in this world."

My heart beat quickly in my chest. I could see where he thought this conversation was going. There was a small, hopeful smile playing at the corners of his mouth, which he was trying to keep contained.

"Yes, well…I was thinking…with the end of the war hopefully on the horizon, Europe will need to rebuild its infrastructure, especially its railroad system."

This was when his eyes narrowed, and the smile that had cautiously lurked at the corners of his mouth evaporated. Yet, I pushed forward.

"I think it would be a good idea – business-wise – for the railroad to send a consultant to Europe, Papa, to assist them in the rebuilding effort."

For a full five minutes, we sat in a tense, uncomfortable silence, and I knew what he saw – he'd seen it the second I mentioned Europe, yet there'd been no other way around it.

Finally, when the tension burned so high that I thought I'd dissolve into ashes under it, he released a long heavy breath and unlinked his hands, sitting back against his leather chair.

"First, let's suppose your suggestion to assist the European railroads is a rational one," he said coolly. "We have no real idea when this war will end. Hitler shows no signs of giving up, as evidenced by those V-1 rockets he continues to fire against London. The papers report that when Florence was liberated a few days ago, the Germans left behind the destruction of historic bridges and architecture. Obviously, rebuilding infrastructure is the least of anyone's concerns in Europe at the moment. Second, with the Soviet Union's political and economic outlook so different from that of ours and the rest of the European community, it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to set forth an infrastructure plan that would include them. This is something else that would need to be thoroughly studied and explored before we even considered sending a _consultant_ into Europe. But Isabella…" he shook his head and leaned forward, and this much closer, I could see the fire burning behind his blue eyes.

"Let's lay all our cards out on the table, shall we," he clenched through his teeth, "and stop wasting time by pretending that this is in any way remotely pertaining to the railroads."

"Papa Phil," I breathed as calmly as possible, "I know that this is hard for you or anyone else to understand, and I don't blame you. But I know that he's alive. I _know_ he is," I added when he closed his eyes and dropped his head, shaking it back and forth. "And I have to find him, but with travel to Europe restricted at the moment to only military and pre-approved commerce, this is the only avenue I have available. I can represent Dwyer Industries as a consultant. I know the business well enough, Papa, you know I do. And you can work with me to bring me further up to speed," I rambled, knowing all along that my words were falling on deaf ears.

"Isabella. Bella…" he finally muttered, picking up his head and bringing his sad, sympathetic eyes back to mine. "Edward is gone, Bella," he said gently.

I shook my head. For a few seconds, we sat there in stony silence. Then, with a deep sigh, he opened the top drawer to his desk and carefully pulled out a couple of sheets of paper.

All the while, blood pounded painfully in my veins.

Papa Phil swallowed thickly. "These are…duplicates of the War Department letters sent to the Cullens." He held one out to me, but I shook my head and turned away. Out of my periphery, I saw his shoulders fall and his lips press together tightly.

"Very well, Isabella, I'll tell you what it says. It says that Captain Edward Cullen and his crew were shot down somewhere over occupied France."

I closed my eyes, no longer breathing.

"The fortress known as _The Woodland Nymph_ met enemy fire and broke apart in mid-air. None of the witnesses saw any parachutes open. Take a look at it yourself."

"No," I shook my head, refusing to allow my eyes to stray to the letter. "No, that's wrong."

"Isabella, hundreds of men were up in the air and saw the plane go down, and none of them saw any parachutes!"

"They were busy being shot at and trying to escape themselves, Papa," I said as evenly as possible. "They could have missed it."

Papa Phil set down the letter and resting his elbow over the desk, scrubbed his face hard with his hand.

"Isabella, you're a very smart young woman, and I do understand how your pain from the loss of your fiancé is making it hard for you to think clearly. But Bella, his plane broke into pieces. They were over enemy territory. _No one_ saw any survivors. It's been almost two months, Isabella. Surely, had he survived, there would've been word by now – even if he'd been taken prisoner."

"Maybe he's hiding somewhere. Maybe the French Resistance is hiding him somewhere!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening with this new possibility. "It might be too dangerous wherever he is for him to try to escape at the moment! But he's young and strong! Yes, Papa! He's just waiting to-"

"Isabella, stop!" He glared at me incredulously. "Yes, Edward was young and strong, and he was brave too, but war makes no concessions for youth, strength or bravery! The war took him, darling. It took both him and his brother," his voice broke painfully, and I couldn't help but wince, "and we both have to accept the fact that there will always be things left undone and unsaid-"

"You weren't there, Papa," I insisted. "You didn't see the determination in his eyes when he promised, when he _swore_ he'd come back to me no matter-"

The shock of his fist landing so forcefully over the desk, rattling documents, pens, and paper weights, made me flinch in my seat.

"Enough, Isabella! You can't possibly hold him to that promise! Damn it, he should've never made that promise in the first place!" he yelled. "It was deceiving and irresponsible of him because he had _no_ control over what would happen, and now because of that ridiculous promise, you refuse to let go!"

I rose to my feet, the chair scraping the floor under me.

"It's more than his promise. He's broken those before. I simply know he's alive. I feel it here," I lay a palm on my chest, "and I _have_ to go find him."

"How in the world would you go about doing that, Isabella?" he questioned. "In a continent destroyed by war, how would you go about finding one man?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I have-"

You're not going over there, Isabella," he cut me off. "I'll do almost anything to help you, to make you feel better, but I draw the line at sending you into a war-torn region just for you to scour the landscape for a dead man! _That_ is madness!"

"You simply don't understand," I persisted, keeping my voice level down despite the downward spiral this conversation had taken. "You've never trusted in someone or believed in someone the way I trust and believe in Edward."

"I said no!" He slammed a palm over the desk. "You can accuse me of being as heartless as you wish, but you are not going!"

And at that point, I knew I'd lost. I'd gambled on Papa Phil's help and lost horribly.

With as much composure as I could muster, I turned and walked towards the door, but before walking out, I turned to Papa Phil once more.

"Edward needs me, I can feel it, and I have to go, with or without your help."

"How exactly do you plan to do that, Isabella?" he chuckled humorlessly, tipping his head sideways to study me. "I'll block every single avenue available to you, and you know I can do so, even if it means having you temporarily hate me."

"And I _will_ hate you," I promised without hesitation.

"I don't doubt you will," he snorted. "Yet, I'd rather have you alive and hating me, than dead and pleased with me. And I also hope that…in time…" he frowned solemnly, "once you accept the reality of the situation, you'll see that I only did it for your own good."

"For my own good," I repeated emptily. "Everyone seems to think they know what I should do for my own good as if I don't have my own mind."

"You have a mind, Isabella," he said sadly, "you're just not using it."

"As I've told you before, Papa, sometimes we have to listen to more than our minds."

And turning around once more, I forced my legs to remain upright and urged them forward, step by step despite the river threatening to rise over me.

OOOOOOOOOO

On that early August afternoon, Tanya picked me up in her black convertible with the top down. Her large, black sunglasses hid her eyes from me, and the red silk scarf tied around her blond hair perfectly matched her red lipstick, making her look like a movie star. Men of all ages, in and out of uniform stopped in their tracks to look at her as I climbed into the passenger side of the car.

She reached over and pulled me into her arms. "Darling…" she breathed. "I'm so very sorry."

"If I hear that one more time, I think I'll scream," I admitted.

Pulling away, she lifted her sunglasses off her eyes and studied me.

"You look horrible, Isabella." She shook her head and sucked her teeth. "Let's go."

OOOOOOOOOO

We arrived a few hours later at her parent's house in Greenwich, Connecticut, a huge mansion built in the neoclassical style of the 19th century, which from outside resembled the White House. Our heels resonated loudly over the white marble floors as she led me silently through the house, past the two-story foyer and up the winding staircase to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her and walked towards me with a smile.

"Mother and Father are in the Hamptons for the weekend, and no one will bother us here."

I exhaled heavily and dropped over her bed, burying my face in my hands.

She left me alone for a few minutes, but I could hear her moving around the room, the sound of her cigarette case unsnapping, her lighter flickering, and the scent of smoke in the air. When I uncovered my face, she was sitting next to me, her lips pursed around a cloud of grey.

"You're not doing too well, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I snorted, "not at all."

"Isabella, I wish I knew what to say. I wish I could tell you that eventually, things will be okay – that you'll meet another tall, dark, and handsome man that'll sweep you off your feet and…" she sighed. "But I honestly don't know if that's true. I know how much you loved…_him_."

"Thank you," I smiled, "for at least being honest. I'm sick and tired of hearing everyone tell me that I'll be better soon. That I'll get over it."

She contemplated me. "If your parents are driving you looney, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

"Thank you, but…I can't afford to waste too much time."

She frowned, blowing a swirl of smoke over our heads. "Do you mean because of the university? I'm sure if you want to take a leave of absence, the school would allow it under the circumstances. Besides, you're Philip Dwyer's daughter, it won't-"

"No, no. I don't mean the university. The university is the last thing on my mind right now." I watched her silently for a moment, studying the way her left hand supported her elbow while her right wrist rotated carelessly back and forth with her cigarette.

"Tanya…I need help."

"Of course, Isabella. Anything you need. Just name it."

"Edward…Edward isn't dead."

Her cigarette hand froze halfway to her lips.

"But…but your stepfather informed us that-"

"No, no. Listen," I urged her, angling myself closer. "It's a mistake. The War Department has made a mistake. He was…shot down," I forced myself to say, "and no one saw him parachute out, so everyone assumes he's dead, but I know he isn't."

For two seconds, she actually seemed to believe me, and her eyes widened in surprise. But in the next second, they narrowed into slits, and I could see the exact moment that she, like everyone else, began weighing my sanity against the probabilities of what I was telling her.

She looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

"No, look at me!" I insisted, grabbing her shoulders. "I know it sounds insane, but I swear to you, I'm not mad. I just _know_. I _know_ this."

"How?" she asked warily.

"I feel it in my heart," I explained. "As long as my heart keeps beating steadily, it means that Edward is still alive."

Tanya closed her eyes and shook her head. "_Oh_ _Isabella_."

"Look," I said shakily, "you don't have to believe me. You just have to help me."

"How can _I_ help you?"

Exhaling a breath threw narrowed lips, I reached into my purse and carefully pulled out last Christmas's present from Mother and Papa Phil.

Tanya's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the diamond drop-earrings with the large sapphires.

"Goodness, Isabella! What exactly are you thinking of doing with those?"

"Do you know anyone who may want to buy them?" I asked urgently. "And I have plenty more, and the convertible as well."

"I…I don't…" her eyes met mine. "Let's say I do. What would you do with all that money?"

"Tanya, I _have_ to get to Europe. Edward is there somewhere, most likely in France, hurt or…trapped. There's no travel allowed into Europe unless you have official business there, and Papa Phil won't help me. What's more, he's promised to stop me from finding my way there. Perhaps…" I held her gaze intently, "perhaps you know someone who knows how to get me there through other channels?"

"Isabella, my God," she choked, "who would I know that could do something like that?"

She looked completely horrified, and I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it desperately.

"Okay, forget knowing someone that can help me get to Europe. Is there anyone you know that may be willing to buy my jewels? I'll sell them for half their value."

She bit her lip. "Isabella…"

"Please, Tanya," I begged. "Just help me sell my jewels. I'll figure the rest out on my own. _Please_."

For a long while, she simply held my gaze while a myriad of conflicting emotions danced behind her eyes.

"I may know…a man…" she finally mumbled.

I pulled her into my arms and held her stiff body against me. "Thank you," I breathed. "I can get you the rest of the jewels tomorrow," I assured her as I pulled away. "Can you meet with him as soon as possible? I don't have time to lose."

Tanya swallowed thickly and sighed. "Alright, Isabella. I'll meet with him as soon as possible."

Despite Tanya's agreement to help me, I slept fitfully that night, dreams of planes spiraling out of the sky, fireballs exploding on impact filled my subconscious. When I woke, I had to sit in bed for almost a quarter of an hour fighting down the nausea at the base of my throat, the wild pounding in my chest as if my heart wanted to escape its confines. A sickening feeling of dread filled me to the core, and I was anxious to get back to the apartment in the city so that I could retrieve the rest of my jewels.

Tanya and I set out back to New York early. What my next step would be, I still had no clue, but I felt a small glimmer of hope in the sunshine glaring down at me. I'd keep the river's banks at bay, forbid them to submerge me in their waters of despair until I figured out the next move.

When Tanya parked in front of the Penthouse, I angled myself sideways.

"I'll run upstairs and get the rest of the jewels."

"No, no." She shook her head. "First, let me make sure that he's willing to buy the earrings you've already given me. There's no point in you giving me the rest before we even know."

The river threatened to rise, but I compelled it down. "Okay," I agreed. "You're right." I took her hand. "Thanks so much, Tanya, and call me as soon as you know, alright?"

She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "Alright, Isabella." She reached out and pulled me tightly into her arms. "Feel better, darling. I'll call you as soon as I can."

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as I walked into the apartment, Mrs. Lewis was waiting by the door.

She wrung her hands together. "Miss Isabella, your mother has asked that you go see her as soon as you arrive."

I rushed past her. "Please tell her that I can't right now. I'll go see her later."

Once in my room, I walked quickly to my closet where ever since the age of eight, I'd tucked away every box of jewelry that Mother and Papa Phil had presented me with. It would be a decent sum of money once Tanya helped me sell it all, and surely, I thought as I opened the first box, there had to be some way-

All the blood drained from my body and pooled to my toes when I opened the box and found…nothing.

With confused and trembling hands, I threw that box aside and opened the next one, only to find it also empty. Throwing that one aside, I opened the next one simply to find an empty velvet void.

"No," I whimpered brokenly. "No."

Box after box came up empty.

"NO!"

A blinding fury, colored by the desperation and despair I'd been trying so hard to keep at bay filled my vision with spots of red and purple, made my entire body quake with fear and indignation. Wildly, I made my way to Papa Phil's office, jerking open his door without bothering to knock.

"Where are my jewels?" I demanded.

Papa Phil held my gaze and slowly stood, stepping out from behind his large, mahogany desk. Resting against it, he crossed his arms against his chest and crossed one foot over the other.

"They've been put in a proper safe. Next year, when you turn twenty-one, you'll receive both your jewels and your trust."

"I want the jewels _now_!"

"No, Isabella."

"But those are _my_ jewels!"

"Bought for you with _my_ money."

"So now you're throwing your money in my face?"

"I'm not throwing anything in your face, Isabella," he clarified in that maddeningly calm tone of his, "but I know exactly why you want those jewels. Your friend Tanya contacted us last evening."

I reeled backwards on unsteady footing.

"Of all the traitorous…" I straightened myself out. "I should've known not to trust her, not to trust _anyone_ from this sickening, corrupt society!"

"First, she's simply concerned for you, the way we all are. And second, this is your society as well, Isabella."

"It is _not_!" I yelled. "I never asked for any of this! I had a home! I had a father! I _have_ a father, and _you_ are not he!"

I regretted the words the second they were out of my mouth. In my heart, I regretted them so painfully, especially as I watched Papa Phil's handsome face blanch before me, as I watched his arms fall to his sides as if they'd gone weak. His head jerked back with the force of someone who'd been physically struck.

Yet by that point, the river was choking me, wrapping its fingers around my throat.

"You have fathered two children," I seethed, "neither one of which was me! And while you may be able to buy and control your daughter with financial threats and bribes, it won't work with me, and it would've never worked with Masen! You have no right to tell me what to do!"

"I have _every_ right to tell you what to do!" he bellowed, finding his strength once more. "Whether you asked for it or not is a moot point because whether you like it or not, _I_ have been your real father for these past twelve years! _I've_ been the one who's dealt with your ups and downs, with your fears and your whims, with your financial and physical security! I'm the one dealing with this madness of yours right now!"

"I never asked you to! I have a father! You didn't have the courage to claim Masen as your son, so instead you claimed a child that wasn't your own, and you had no right!"

"Jesus, Isabella," he said raggedly, "I remained quiet for his own good as well as for the good of Esme – and Carlisle!"

"Yes," I sneered, "you thought of _their_ well-being, you respected _them_ enough not to interfere in their marriage, yet you had absolutely no respect for my father! My mother had a husband, and you _stole_ us from him!" I accused.

Papa Phil stood there, blinking profusely and staring at me as if he wasn't sure who exactly he was looking at.

"Isabella, I never wanted to discuss these things with you, but you're forcing my hand now. No matter how wonderful and blameless you may believe Charles Swan to be, the fact is that he was too weak to protect you and your mother, to defend what he had. When you have things that are precious to you, things you don't want taken from you, you guard them carefully. You set up safeguards and preventative measures. You keep those precious items close! I didn't steal Charles' family! He was negligent and lax and put up no fight, Isabella, no resistance - not even when I informed him that I wanted you to take my surname! And while you may not have had a choice at the time, you've enjoyed the privileges which being my daughter have given you very well indeed!"

"I never asked for any of it!" I cried, tears of shame and agony rolling wildly down my cheeks.

"I've taken care of you! I've given you all the privileges and the…" his voice broke, "the affection I've been able to from the moment I laid eyes on you, from the moment you stood in that hotel lobby and looked up at me with those wide, innocent golden eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to be your father, to take care of that innocence that your own mother failed to see, to keep you safe and take care of you the way I'd never be able to take care of…" he swallowed. "Yet you stand there indignant and believing yourself completely justified in your anger, believing yourself smarter and above the rest of us, failing to realize that you _are_ asking me to bribe you, to buy your passage to Europe and thereby _finally_ buy your love and respect, your forgiveness for my mistakes. By God, Isabella, you're more like your mother than I ever realized!"

How my legs didn't fold right then and there, I'll never know. Yet it wasn't the indignity of what he said that struck me so forcefully, it was the fact that…that I knew it to be true - that I'd always known it to be true.

"Please, Papa Phil!" I begged openly. "Please help me with this!"

"No," he said with a finality that made me want to curl in on myself. "As I said before, Isabella, I'd rather have you alive and hating me, than dead and finally seeing me as the father I've always tried to be for you. You will go to Europe while this war rages only over my dead body."

And unable to take anymore, I turned and ran out of that office, towards my room to struggle with my mind and try to think despite the river that was now at my nostrils, its water seeping in drop by drop. And as I looked up at the winding staircase, there stood Mother, beautiful and regal despite the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Locked in one another's gaze, we stood there for a minute, and then I quickly made my way to my room.

OOOOOOOOOO

I can't even tell you what hotel it was that I checked into that afternoon. Confused and aimless, I took the keys from the hotel clerk and made my way through the lobby in a world that had once again become a blurry haze. Loud sounds and indistinguishable shapes rushed by me. Yet nothing was of importance, nothing truly registered in my mind.

"_Even if I have to crawl, Bella, even if I have to crawl on my hands and knees…"_

I winced against the memories circling in my bewildered mind as I unlocked the door to my room. The 'Do Not Disturb' sign hung on the inside doorknob, and I took it and placed it on the outside. Then, dropping my small bag over the carpeted floor, I fell over the bed and blessedly escaped into nothingness.

Time became a strange concept. In moments of wakefulness, my mind would vacillate between memories and struggles to figure out a way. I was a rich young woman with no real money of my own. No one to help me. No one to understand. My anchor was…gone…missing…and I was falling…falling…

I fisted my hair with both hands, and when I pulled them away, my eyes landed on my ring, on my beautiful, simple white band.

"I wonder how much can I get for it?" I murmured to myself.

I wouldn't have been able to tell you whether it was hours or days that passed before there was a knock on the room's door. Of course, I ignored it, shifting my body to the other side of the bed. Yet the knocking continued. Insistent. Intensifying. Again, I wouldn't have been able to say how long it lasted. Minutes. Hours. When it finally stopped, I felt myself drifting into sleep, and in that half-aware plane where dreams mix with reality, I heard anxious, muffled voices whispering furiously just outside of the door – followed by the sound of a key being inserted into the keyhole.

I sat up straight, my heart suddenly racing in my chest. Clad only in my slip, I rushed to the front door, vibrating with anticipation, and when the door opened, my eyes trailed from the immaculately shined shoes to the military slacks and the air force jacket…and a long, haggard gasp escaped me. I'd never wanted to crawl into a ball and simply cease existing as much as I did when my eyes met Peter's.

Behind him, one of the hotel maids stood guiltily in her black and white uniform, key in hand.

"Oh, Miss, forgive me!" she expelled as she noticed my state of undress. "The gentleman was concerned, and he begged me to open-"

I turned around and headed back to the bed while behind me, I vaguely heard Peter's voice.

"Thank you for your assistance. She'll be fine now."

The door closed as I crawled under the covers and shut my eyes. The sounds of Peter moving around the room filled my ears: his cap landing over a chair, his shoes pacing back and forth. His anxious breaths so close. When he stopped, the end of the bed dipped.

Behind closed lids, I pictured him removing his jacket, removing his tie, the legs of his trousers coming off one by one, and I wasn't even sure if I had the physical strength left to fight him off if he tried something.

The dim light of the room gave way to bright sunlight, warm and soothing on my face despite everything. The other window curtains were drawn, and I felt the heat of the sun filtering in through them as well.

Something landed on the bed covers that rested on top of me.

"Get up and get dressed, Isabella. We have a lot to talk about."

"Peter…please…just go away. I have nothing to say to you."

He came and stood close to me, and I felt his breath tickle the nape of my neck.

"Well, I have some things to say to you, and I think you should listen, especially since I'm the only one who can help you get to Europe."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**The plan is to update again later this week…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	60. Chapter 59 - Renewed Hopes

**A/N: Here's a pre-Thanksgiving update, since I'll be cooking and eating for the next few days. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 59 – Renewed Hopes**

The small restaurant inside the hotel offered as its entrée of the day a homegrown vegetable omelet featuring green zucchini, green peppers and white onions alongside a victory salad made of crisp romaine lettuce and juicy plum tomatoes all dressed in white vinegar and olive oil.

I stared dully at the dishes as they lay before me, untouched over the clean yet faded white tablecloth.

"Isabella, your omelet is getting cold, and your lettuce is wilting."

My eyes slowly trailed away from the dishes and rose beyond them to the immaculately uniformed Air Force Lieutenant sitting across the table, watching me with a mixture of exasperation and wariness.

"Tell me why we're here, Peter."

"We're here so that you can eat. You've become nothing but skin and bones since I last saw you."

"Does my stepfather know you came to see me?"

He shook his head. "No. Not as far as I know. I'm sure he knows where you're staying, but we've remained inside, and I specifically requested a table in the back to remain inconspicuous. Your stepfather isn't a stupid man, and we don't need his wheels turning."

My eyes narrowed, confused by his statement but not interested enough to pursue it. "And my mother?"

His silence was all the answer I needed.

Scowling, I pushed my plate aside. "I should've known," I hissed, rising to my feet.

Peter quickly reached out and clamped his fingers around my wrist.

"Get off of me!" I demanded, trying unsuccessfully to free myself.

"Sit down, Isabella!" he whispered vehemently, looking around the restaurant filled with a mid-afternoon crowd. "You're making a scene! Just sit yourself down and listen!"

Reluctantly, and only because I had no other options as to where to go, I lowered myself into my seat again. Yet when he still failed to release me, I wrapped my own fingers around his wrist and jerked his hand off.

He glared at me over the table, nostrils flaring.

"Tell me why we're here," I repeated, ignoring his irritation.

"I _will_ tell you everything, Isabella," he said, leaning in so close to me that I could see the impatience burning in his blue irises, "but first, _I_ need one very important answer from _you_."

I crooked a brow.

"Isabella," he breathed, "look deep inside of yourself and tell me the truth: do you truly believe that Edward is alive, or is this insane defiance simply your way of coping until you're ready to accept reality?"

The only thing that kept me from reaching out and slapping him was the slimmest of hope burning within me; the possibility, despite how slight, that Peter had been telling the truth when he'd said he could help me get to Europe. Nevertheless, my flattened palm twitched on the table. Peter's eyes flashed down to my convulsing hand and then back up to me with a smirk playing on his lips, as if he could read my thoughts.

"On our last night together before he left for Europe, Edward and I held one another close…so so close, closer than I ever imagined two people could ever be. In that moment, we were one. Our hearts beat as one with the same rhythm, the same pace. And it wasn't like in the movies nor was it like some cliché romance novel. It was _real_. It was at that moment, with his heart and soul bared and beating next to mine, that he promised he'd come back to me; he swore it. And I don't expect you to understand any of it."

"Isabella," Peter swallowed, "just because two people are…together in that way doesn't mean-"

"Tell me why you're here," I breathed impatiently, resting my elbows on the table while fisting my hair between both hands.

He drew in a deep breath, keeping his gaze steadily on me as he let it out slowly. "There are…things I'm about to tell you - things that I'm not supposed to tell you…not yet, but if things go the way I plan, you'll have to know them anyway."

"Peter, what in the world are you talking about?" I asked tiredly.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. "I suppose you have no idea…no interest as to where I've been for the past year or so."

"You've been a U.S. Air Force officer assigned to the home front," I grinned wryly, "fighting the war from the safety of your home base in…where?" I wondered vaguely. "Virginia? North Carolina?"

"Washington, D.C. actually," he answered dryly, "as part of the Air Force, yes, but in conjunction with another relatively unknown arm of the War Department."

"What arm?"

"We'll get to that," he nodded. "What you need to know now is that the people I work with…we're tasked with assignments and operations which aren't spoken of on the radio or in the newspapers. We come from all walks of life, with different talents and abilities, from every department in the military." He paused. "Many of our agents aren't enlisted in the military at all."

"What are you saying, Peter?"

He sighed and shook his head, watching me for one long moment.

"Isabella, did Edward ever write to you about…his missions, especially those he undertook in the last few months?"

"No," I breathed, my chest tightening painfully. "We didn't discuss his missions in more than general terms."

"Of course," Peter nodded. "He wouldn't have been allowed to speak of them, and in any case, I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to worry you."

"Tell me what you know, Peter," I pleaded.

Studying me intently, he took a deep breath and whispered, "There's a unit in the Eighth Air Force under the control of the Office of Strategic Services. Did Edward ever mention this?"

"No."

"Alright," he nodded once. "The OSS is the arm of the War Department I mentioned. For the past year or so, its main assignment has been to supply weapons and other…materials to the resistance fighters in France and the other occupied countries of Europe." His eyes held mine. "As part of the OSS, I was in England a few months ago on an intelligence-sharing mission, at the Air Base from which this unit operates. While there, I saw Edward."

My mind reeled, and my hands gripped the edges of the table as I fought back a wave of dizziness.

"Are you alright, Isabella?" He lifted his arm as if to reach out for me.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," I said quickly, closing my eyes to steady the spinning. When I reopened them, I forced myself to focus on only the important points, not on why Edward had never mentioned seeing Peter.

"Peter, what does it mean that he was part of this unit?"

"Don't read too much into that particular bit of information. It doesn't mean anything beyond his being part of the Carpetbagger Operation – which is what we call it," he clarified. "As I've said, this unit is tasked with assignments which aren't known to the general public. It doesn't mean that what the War Department wrote to Edward's family a few weeks ago was untrue; it simply means that the exact specifics of where and how…his plane went down aren't details that the War Department will ever likely share."

"But if you're a part of this OSS Department as well, you can get me information!" I hissed excitedly.

"Isabella," he responded much more sedately, "as soon as I heard of…what happened, I tried, but the only information available is basically that which has already been disclosed. His plane was shot down over Occupied France, it broke apart, and no survivors were seen parachuting out. The only information I can add is that he was most likely on a nighttime mission, as are most of the carpetbagger missions, and that his plane was most likely flying very low, as that's necessary for the planes to release their cargo safely. There's nothing beyond that."

"Was there…a body found?" I asked shakily.

"I don't know anything about that, Isabella. It's beyond my clearance level, and besides, it's information that wouldn't be available from over here."

"But there must be a way to find out!" I choked desperately.

Peter reached out and took both of my hands in his, and feeling as if the world was rotating too quickly, I allowed him.

"Isabella, the OSS will never release additional information."

Drawing a hand away, I pressed it to my mouth to force back down the sob which was making its way up my throat, to force back the river's waters threatening to once more drown me. All the while, Peter studied me carefully, something akin to indecisiveness marking his features – in the way his mouth straightened and his eyes narrowed. But then he shut his eyes, and by the time he reopened them, there was a clear resolve in them.

"How's your French, Isabella?"

"What?"

"Est votre français toujours aussi bon que je me soviens?"

I frowned.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Ne me comprenez-vous? Do you not understand me?" he questioned, a deep V forming between his brows. "Quand je vous parle en français cela rapidement, vous comprenez ce que je veux dire? Comme je me souviens, vous avez parlé très bien quand nous étions plus jeunes - la conversation ainsi que grammaticalement. L'été de votre quatorzième anniversaire, quand vous et moi avons passé beaucoup de temps ensemble, nous avons utilisé à tomber facilement dans les conversations en français, sans une seconde pensée. Je pensais que vous étiez si belle que l'été, si libre et innocent. Ce fut le premier été, je voulais vous. Je voulais vous embrasser. Je voulais goûter vos lèvres et voir si elles étaient doux comme- »

"Assez, Peter! Oui, je comprends chaque mot que vous dites! Je parle très couramment, no matter how quickly you speak it! But I don't have time for your-"

"And I remember all those other summers up in Forks," he continued, ignoring my outburst, "when you had to drop whatever you were doing to attend to your French tutor. Two hours of French daily. Neither your mother nor Phil ever let you slide."

"No, they didn't," I smirked. "But how does that-"

"Have you kept up with it?"

"Oui," I gritted in French. "I've continued it in college. I speak it fluently, Peter. But you know this. You heard me then, and you're hearing me now. I'm told I speak it like a native, both conversationally and grammatically. I'd have absolutely no trouble communicating in France if that's where you're going with this."

His gaze remained fixed on me, but he neither confirmed nor refuted my statement. "And how far have you gotten with your medical training? How much have you-"

"I've completed two years of pre-med. I'm set to start my third year in a couple of weeks, but…"

He squeezed the hand I still had within his and knit our fingers together. "Yes, I know."

For a few seconds, I simply stared down at our locked hands, his so much bigger than mine. Tender. Then, I methodically unknit them and pulled mine away.

Wide shoulders sagging, he sat back against his chair once more. "From what I've seen, your grades have been stellar in every class. You're very bright, Isabella."

"How do you know my grades?"

"I've had a few telephone calls made."

"Of all the invasive…who gave you permission? Was it Papa Phil? Did he put you up to this after all?"

"No, Isabella. Philip has absolutely nothing to do with this. In fact, if he finds out I'm here with you, this conversation will probably go nowhere. That's why we have to work quickly." He leaned in fast.

"I've been tasked with a recruiting assignment: finding a young woman, preferably petite and dark-haired – someone who can pass for both non-threatening when necessary and intelligent when needed. This young woman must have very specific skills. She must be of above-average intelligence, speak fluent French, and not merely grammatically correct French, but the type of French that would be spoken by your everyday French person. There can be no accent, no doubt that this young woman is a native."

My heart picked up a furious rhythm as the specifics of what he was suggesting began to take a clear shape in my mind.

"There would be no doubt," I breathed in French.

"She must have an analytical and interpretive mind so that she can evaluate and assess things presented to her rapidly and modify her behavior and actions to reflect those situations."

"Thanks to my stepfather, I've been allowed to practice my analytical and interpretive skills rather extensively."

"That's good to know," he nodded. "And your medical background, despite its current lack of depth, can be…worked with."

"Peter, what exactly are we talking about here?"

"If I have to explain that to you in detail, right here and now, then perhaps you're not the right person for this job, Isabella."

We held one another's gaze.

"So how would this work?"

"I bring you in, let my superiors know that I believe you'd be a good fit, and the rest is up to you."

"And how long would all that take?"

"We're trying to win a war before the end of the year here, Isabella. Guam has been liberated, and all of the Mariana Islands are now in Allied hands. General MacArthur has been given the green light to invade the Philippines. We need to turn our attention to the Pacific, but the war in Europe needs to be resolved first. Intelligence received yesterday confirms that since breaking out of the Hedgerows in Normandy, the Allied advancement has picked up pace, and Patton's army currently has a large German regiment encircled west of the Seine. If the Allies are able to win this battle, it'll open the way to Paris and then to the German border. We've got French Resistance fighters ready to begin an uprising in Paris, but we need the Allied army closer. Time is of the essence in everything now. You would be subject to a thorough background check, of course, after which you'd be given initial security clearance."

"Papa Phil won't allow it," I shook my head, "when he finds out, and he _will_ find out."

Peter drummed his fingers over the table. "With all due respect to your stepfather, these are matters dealing with national intelligence. Philip would neither know what was going on while you were being prepared, nor would he have the ability to stop it once you were on your way."

A sliver of hope raced through my veins, making me feel almost giddy, definitely more alive than I'd felt in weeks.

"Alright. What would be next?"

"There would be a series of interviews which we can expedite due to necessity, after which you'll receive intensive instruction applicable to your possible duties."

"How long, Peter?" I repeated.

His jaw tightened. "Aren't you concerned about the possible dangers? The risks?"

"How. Long?"

"No longer than six weeks," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Six weeks," I echoed, focusing my gaze on the wall behind Peter. "Alright. I suppose six weeks is the best I can hope for." When I brought my eyes back to him, he was glaring at me.

For one long moment as we locked eyes, I debated my next question.

"What did you tell Mother you would say to me?" I asked instead.

"I told her I'd do my best to convince you that Edward is gone, and that the best thing for you to do would be to occupy your mind with other endeavors – whether it be school or friends or…" he sighed. "I told her _I'd_ make you forget him."

I nodded slowly, already having anticipated that response. Still, the more pressing question burned its way up my throat, rose like bile into my mouth, wanting to expel itself yet not wanting to spew its ugly truth out there for examination - for both our good.

Nevertheless, the question must've been written all over my face.

"You're probably wondering why I'd do this, when it as much as guarantees me Philip Dwyer as an enemy when he does find out."

"Actually, I think it's pretty clear," I blurted.

"Do you?" He crooked a familiar, amused brow my way. The arrogant boy I'd known for so long was showing himself as he carelessly sat back against his seat, studying me carefully. "In that case, Isabella, let's call this a test: tell me what you're thinking."

I moved in closer to him, grinning humorlessly. "Oh, I know what I'm thinking. How about I tell you what you're thinking instead?"

He gave me a slight yet somewhat wary nod. "Even better."

"You're thinking that Edward is indeed dead," I sneered, "and despite what I said before, my inability to believe it is indeed my mind's coping mechanism - my way to deal with the pain until I'm ready to accept the reality. You're thinking that if you take me to Europe – because you'll be there too, won't you?"

"Of course," he confirmed.

"You're thinking that if you take me to Europe," I continued, "and allow me my search, allow me to see the situation for myself, the destruction and the hopelessness with my own eyes, then eventually my mind will have no other choice other than to accept and believe. You're thinking that little by little, I'll see that I _have_ to move on because that's what Edward would've wanted for me, isn't it? He would've wanted me to go on with my life, to be happy regardless of what that happiness entails - even if it means eventually loving someone else…giving myself…to someone else. You're thinking that although I may never completely stop loving Edward, eventually, I'll be able to love someone else enough to make a life with him. And you're thinking…" I breathed, "that by taking me to Europe, you're freeing me to love _you_ someday."

For what felt like an eternity, he simply watched me, his chest heaving slightly, eyes burning bright.

"Very good." He drew in a long, uneven breath. "You got that perfectly right from beginning to end."

"And so you sit there and hope for Edward's death," I scowled, "and believe that's something I could _ever_ forgive."

"I don't _hope_ for his death, Isabella," he said grimly. "I know that deep inside, you don't believe me that cruel. But I – along with everyone else, Bella – do believe…do _know_ that Edward is…dead," he said much more gently. "And I can't even imagine how hard that must be for you to face. I simply want to be there for you when you do face it, Bella - to keep you safe while you go on this search for the truth, while you do whatever it is you need to do to make peace with it."

A tear slid slowly down my cheek, landing heavily on the table between us as I shook my head.

"He was…a very brave soldier," Peter added, his voice thick with emotion, "a good man...a very smart man, and the fact that I begrudged him your love won't keep me from acknowledging him or acknowledging that he loved you with his entire being, and had he been able to, he would've come back to you."

I wiped the tears off my face roughly. "He _loves_ me with his entire being," I growled lowly, "and he _will_ come back to me. Now what do I need to do to get this process started?"

Peter's chest expanded on a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were simply a bright shade of blue, with no emotion whatsoever expressed in them.

"Tell Philip you're going back to school."

"But he'll check, and when he checks-"

"When he checks, you _will_ be back in school."

I frowned. "But I thought-"

"There will be a young woman volunteering in the hospital where you work once this semester begins. You'll be training with her in the evenings and weekends for the next few weeks. When you're ready, I'll come get you for the flight to Europe."

"Okay," I breathed excitedly, a strange, surreal form of adrenaline coursing through me. "So if all goes well, we should be in Europe by October?"

He nodded tersely. "I must be insane," he muttered, fisting his hair. "We must _both_ be insane. Edward himself would kill me with his bare hands if he were here. Are you sure you want to do this, Isabella?" he asked, a note of doubt creeping into his voice. "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe, but we'll be in the middle of a goddamn war."

"I'm sure," I replied with no trace of hesitancy on my part.

He glared incredulously at me. "Very well," he finally said tightly. "Go back to Philip, and tell him that you're ready to return to school. Tell him that although you're still sure that Edward is alive, you've decided to wait for word from him because you know he wouldn't want you over there. Then tell him that you make no promises beyond Christmas. You'll give this war in Europe a few months to end, but if it doesn't and you still haven't heard from Edward, you _will_ be trying to find a way over there." Peter sighed heavily, raking a hand through his short blond hair. "That's the only story I think he'll buy at this point. But you'll have to be convincing, Isabella. Do you think you can do that?"

"I suppose it'll be my first test," I grinned wryly.

He chuckled. "Your training begins now, Isabella. If you can't get past Philip, this will go nowhere. Now, someone will be in touch with you when you arrive back in Seattle, and then…then you and I will be in touch."

"Okay." I smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks, breathing in deeply, feeling my lungs expand with the air of possibilities, forcing the river to recede well below my throat, its waters quieting and retreating.

And as I basked in the first rays of hope I'd experienced in a long time, Peter stood to leave, buttoning his jacket and placing his officer's cap back on top of his head. Despite everything, I couldn't help the twinge of resentment that rose up inside me at the sight of him so healthy and…safe. It threatened to choke off some of my new found air.

"Take care, Isabella," he said gently, and I could see the struggle in him to keep his hands at his sides. "Remember that from here on in, you have to learn to keep your emotions contained - no matter what."

With that, he turned to leave, but I quickly grabbed his cuff, and he turned back around.

"Peter…" I swallowed, "when you saw Edward…how did he look? Did you get a chance to speak to him?"

He shook his head. "He looked…like Edward," he shrugged. "I don't know what you expect me to say beyond that. He was busy, and I was busy. I saluted him as he passed by, and then we both returned to our duties."

"Thank you," I finally breathed. "For everything."

He drew in a deep breath of his own, and without another word, he turned and left.

OOOOOOOOOO

I arrived back at the Penthouse that evening to silent and lonely rooms even more imposing than I'd ever seen them. Papa Phil was in the main parlor, which with its large space and elegant furnishings was usually reserved for entertaining. He sat on the brown, King Louis XV-styled sofa, a decanter of a brown liquid I knew to be his favored brandy in one hand while he swirled a half-empty snifter in the other.

When he looked up and saw me, he drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, eyes clouded and dulled by the spirits he was drinking…as well as by the pain I saw lurking in the outer edges.

"So you've returned," he said. "Should I expect more hatred and accusations hurled my way? Because if so, please allow me to finish this glass before we begin." With a wry grin, he raised his glass to me in mock salute.

My heart pounded in my chest as I silently made my way to the mini bar in the corner of the room. I picked up an empty snifter and slowly walked towards Papa Phil. When I took the decanter from him, he raised a brow but said nothing.

As I'd seen him do on so many occasions since I was a little girl, I poured myself two fingers, and closing my eyes, I brought the brandy to my mouth, allowing the unfamiliar burn to soothe and calm me.

Papa Phil stood and took the decanter back, wordlessly pouring me another two fingers.

"Cheers." He clinked our glasses together and we both drained our respective drinks.

"Liquid courage, eh Isabella?" Papa Phil finally asked, reading me well. "Is what you need to say now that bad? I'd better pour myself another one." His eyes bored into mine, refusing to allow me one second of composure.

"No, Papa," I sighed, shaking my head and covering the decanter with one hand. "I…want to apologize for hurting you," I said shakily. Honesty – or as much as I could give of it – would be the only way I'd make it out of this. "It was my pain and my anger speaking, but…" the empty glass shook in my hand, "I won't deny that I meant much of what I said. Charlie didn't deserve what he got. He's a good man, and he did his best by both Mother and me, and it was unfair for you to justify what you did by calling him weak. He's always been a good father, and though I don't recall his relationship with my mother, I know he tried his best to make her happy. He didn't deserve to have us taken away in that manner – no matter what your intentions were."

For a long while, he simply looked at me, and with the sharp edge of fear dulled by the drinks I'd had, I could focus on how the past few weeks, even the past couple of days had taken a harsh toll on Papa Phil. His usually immaculate appearance had suffered. His suit was wrinkled. His tie haphazardly done. Dark circles ringed his blue eyes, and his hair was disheveled and graying.

Nevertheless, he straightened his tie almost thoughtlessly, an instinct now ingrained in him, and he held himself straight and sure.

"As you've apologized for hurting me without apologizing for your actual _words_," he said, his speech only slightly slurred, "I'll do the same, Isabella. I don't regret the truths I spoke, only the fact that I spoke them so harshly."

"Fair enough," I breathed, relieved that I'd gotten this far. "I suppose we must satisfy ourselves with these meager sentiments of atonement."

Eyes intently on mine, Papa Phil set down both his glass and the decanter on the side table, and unable to break our gaze, I was sure he could see right through me, right into the soul that refused to give up, despite what it was doing to everyone around me. Palms sweating profusely, I carefully set down my own glass, afraid it would slip and fall from my moist hand and give me away.

Finally, with a deep, haggard breath, he reached out and wrapped his arms around me. Hesitantly, slowly, I reciprocated.

"Isabella…" he smoothed down my hair, "you're the only…real, pure thing remaining in my life. And I know I don't deserve it…don't deserve…you…but I won't allow you to pay for my guilt."

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, trying with all my might not to dissolve into tears. Instead, I tightened my hold around him, pretending that there wasn't a wall as high as the gates of paradise now between us.

After a few minutes, I pulled away and lifted my eyes to his once more.

"I'm returning to Seattle, Papa Phil. Wherever Edward is, I know that's what he probably wants right now." It was easy enough to say, as were the next few statements because despite everything, they were the truth. "And I'll continue waiting for him because I know he's coming back. But…once this war is over, Papa Phil, if Edward hasn't returned, I _do_ plan to go looking for him. If he's too hurt to return to me, then I have to go find him."

Papa Phil's eyes squeezed shut, his throat working furiously around his Adam's apple, and when he reopened his eyes, I could see the struggle he waged with himself to not implode.

"Alright, Isabella," he replied tightly. "I will accept that…for now."

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, as I packed for my trip back to Seattle, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and Mother walked in. Wordlessly, she took a seat on the bed next to me and helped me fold my clothes into the suitcase.

"I will never love him the way he wants me to," I said quietly while putting away a pair of trousers, "the way he deserves for a woman to love him. And it's not fair to him for you to keep encouraging him." I looked up at her. "You should know that better than anyone."

"The difference is, Isabella," she said, her beautiful face more composed and serene than I'd seen it in a while, "that you will always have a mutual respect for each other. There will never be accusations, by either of you, of betrayals or lies." She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. "And there is affection on your part, Isabella. No matter how much you deny it, I see it. There _is_ affection."

"Affection isn't _love_," I said,"and it's not enough on which to build a true, fulfilling relationship. Again, that's something you should know," I insisted.

"It is enough when Peter loves you so deeply, Isabella," she countered. "Philip and I, we both had…questionable motives," she snorted, "for coming together. And we will both live with that - one way or the other. But you and Peter…Isabella, I understand how you love. You're like your father, and when you love, you do so with all your heart, permanently and irrevocably. I suppose I wasn't made that way," she shrugged, her bottom lip trembling. "And I know that you'll never love anyone as you loved Edward, but Peter's love _can_ be enough for the both of you. He _can_ make you happy again if you give him a chance. You can have a family - a _real_ family, as I know you've always wanted. And it has nothing to do with me, Isabella," she assured me. "I'll never have respect, but I have my money," she grinned ruefully, "and no matter what Philip ever does, I will _always_ have my money."

"Unfortunately, Mother," I smiled sadly, pulling away my hand, "it simply doesn't work that way."

"It can…if you allow it."

She held my gaze meaningfully until I had to look away.

"Either way, it doesn't make much of a difference. Edward _will_ come back to me."

Out of my periphery, I could see her eyes on me, yet she remained silent.

"Will you tell Papa Phil that you sent Peter to me?"

She didn't answer right away. "Not if you don't want me to, no. There are enough secrets between your stepfather and I where one more won't make a difference."

OOOOOOOOOO

Once I returned to Seattle, it was business as usual.

I attended my classes and resumed my volunteer work with the Red Cross. There was no one new in anywhere, not in my classes and not at the hospital. Yet, I waited anxiously because Peter had told me to expect someone.

Esme and Carlisle called frequently to see how I was doing, and I assured them that I was, indeed, feeling better. Esme wrote me long letters full of encouragement and informing me of what was going on in Forks. They were all keeping themselves busy - Carlisle with his work and Esme with her volunteer activities. I spoke to Rose and MJ and found that she was keeping herself busy as well with the rigors of daily life while taking care of a two-year-old. She'd also returned to work with Jasper.

Alice wrote to me.

With the liberation of Paris in late August, the Allies had marched triumphantly into the city of lights and were now making their way deeper into France, approaching the borders of Germany. Yet there was still much of France under occupation, and the fighting in those occupied territories was intense.

Alice grieved for her _brothers_, but as I'd always known, she'd grieve for _them_ and honor _them_ by remaining in Europe to do what _they'd_ died for so bravely: help the boys win the war.

Her letter ached for me, pleaded for my well-being, and prayed wholeheartedly for the day when we'd be together again and could mourn our losses together as the sisters-at-heart we'd always been and always would be.

It was a touching letter, and it may have brought comfort had I not known that she grieved for a brother that was somewhere on the same continent as she, fighting to find his way home.

By the second week of September, the Allies had liberated Brussels and Antwerp, and Soviet troops were marching into Bulgaria. And as retaliation for this and for the German cities and production facilities that the Allies now bombed nightly, Hitler was now firing V2 Rockets - the world's first long-range guided missiles, first into London and then into Antwerp.

And back in Seattle, the swell of the river rose high once more, choking off my supply of air. I woke up breathless and cursed Peter's name.

I'd been lied to, and in my desperation, I'd swallowed the lie whole.

OOOOOOOOOO

On September 13, 1944, I turned twenty years old, and American troops reached the Siegfried Line, the west wall of Germany's defense system. Fortress Europe was crumbling, and so were all my hopes.

Until _she_ stepped into the hospital - the new _volunteer_.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the end of October, all high hopes of an end to the war by Christmas were abandoned with the Allied failure of Operation Market Garden. The Allies, bolstered by their many victories, had planned to circumvent the northern end of the Siegfried Line and enter Germany through the lower Rhine. Instead, their failure to hold the bridge at Arnhem led to the death and capture of thousands of paratroopers and the evacuation of thousands more.

Germany's hopes were once more renewed.

And a week after that, as I sat across from a hopeful First Lieutenant Peter Vanderneck, three months after having received the telegram that would change my life in so many ways, I held on tightly to the armrest on the military transport plane that would take us from Seattle to New York, New York to Iceland, Iceland to Portugal, and Portugal to England.

My hopes were renewed as well.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

*****Translations: Please note that I am NOT a native French speaker! Google translate translated these phrases, so please blame them if they're not completely correct. :)**

**Translation: "When I speak to you in French this quickly, do you understand what I'm saying? As I remember, you spoke it very well when we were younger - conversationally as well as grammatically. The summer of your fourteenth birthday, when you and I spent so much time together, we used to easily fall into French conversations without a second thought. I thought you were so beautiful that summer, so free and innocent. That was the first summer I wanted you. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to taste your lips and see if they were as soft as-"**

"**Enough, Peter! Yes, I understand every word you're saying. I speak it very fluently!"**

***** A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED:*****

_**The Office of Strategic Services(OSS) was a United States intelligence agency formed during WWII. It was a wartime intelligence agency, and a predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency(CIA). The OSS was formed to coordinate espionage activities behind enemy lines for the United States Armed Forces branches. Other OSS functions included the use of propaganda, subversion, and post-war planning.**_

_**In early 1944, under the control of the OSS, four squadrons in the Eighth Air Force began carrying out secret nighttime missions to deliver supplies, weapons and military personnel into Occupied France. These missions were known as "Operation Carpetbagger."**_

_**The Carpetbaggers were one of the nation's best kept secrets of World War II. They were a joint venture of the OSS, America's newly organized espionage unit, and the Eighth Air Force. Assisting friendly underground groups, American airmen flew agents and thousands of tons of arms and supplies to those friendly forces. Units of the Eighth Air Force flew specially modified, black-painted B-24's, known as "the Liberator," in low-altitude, night-time operations.**_

_**Each mission took place in a 36 hour cycle, which began at 1700 hours, when the OSS in London gave a list of approved targets for the following night. At 0900 hours the CO selected the night's targets according to the priority of requests from the Resistance groups, reception records of the groups, and availability of aircraft. The lists were then given to the OSS, who informed the reception teams as to times and recognition codes. Squadron Commanders and crew navigators were briefed at 1800 hours on all details, including the weather they could expect en route to the drop zones. Meanwhile, the supply depot loaded the arms and/or equipment into sealed containers and drove them to Harrington Base in England. Personnel to be dropped into enemy territory were subject to the strictest security. They were taken to "dressing huts", where they were searched for any objects that might betray them and then helped into large padded jump suits and rubber helmets. During this time no one except the OSS dressers were allowed to talk to them. Just before take-off, the agents, or Joes as they were known, were driven to the Liberator, which was waiting with engines running. The aircraft taxied to the runway and, on receiving a green light from the tower, took off into the night sky.**_

_**Unlike most Eighth Air Force missions being flown in 1944, the men flying these clandestine missions had no fighter support and had to fly around German anti-aircraft positions and be on time with their load so those on the ground could retrieve it and return to hiding in a short period of time. If they were located by a German night fighter, they had only themselves to rely on to get out of danger and accomplish the mission.**_

_**The group has been generally recognized as the ancestor of today's Air Force Special Operations.**_

_**People from all walks of life worked for the OSS during WWII. The names of all OSS personnel and documents of their OSS service, previously a closely guarded secret, were released by the US National Archives on August 14, 2008. Among the 24,000 names were those of Julia Child, Ralph Bunche, Arthur Goldberg, and John Ford. (And now, Philip Dwyer's stepdaughter, Isabella Swan). :)**_

_**Major League Baseball player Moe Berg was recruited by the OSS in 1943 because of his language skills, and assigned to the Secret Intelligence branch, and took part in missions in the Caribbean, South America, France, England, Norway, Italy, and the Balkans. Berg was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but declined to accept it as he was forbidden from saying what he had done to receive the award. He is the only former Major League Baseball player whose baseball card is displayed at CIA headquarters.**_

_**Twitter: PattyRosa817**_

_**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**_

_**Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, whether in the U.S. or not! I'm thankful for all of you. :)**_

_**I'll see you all next week!**_


	61. Chapter 60 - The Liberator

**A/N: My continued thanks for all your wonderful thoughts and reviews. It's been great reading what you guys are thinking over these last few updates. We're getting close to the end, and as I've said, I'm aiming to finish this by the end of the year. Therefore, if all goes as planned, there will be two updates next week. **

***Please pardon any errors in my (Google's) French. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 60 – The Liberator **

_London: November, 1944._

"There you go." I smiled at the wide-eyed little girl sitting on the wooden chair in front of me. Her bare legs swung playfully back and forth while I finished off the bandage on her arm with two penciled-in dots and a long arc. Standing up, I made a dramatic show of admiring my handy-work. "Oh my, that's perfect! Now your arm has a smile almost as pretty as your own smile!"

She giggled heartily, bestowing me with a toothless grin. "Thank you so much, Miss Swan! It's lovely!"

"You're very welcome," I chuckled.

Carefully ushered off of the chair by her mother with a hushed reminder that there were more people waiting to be seen by the "nice American miss," the little girl skipped away - like most children, simply and innocently excited by all the novelties around her no matter how horrendous those novelties may be.

With a more sober expression, I met her mother's gaze.

"Make sure you change the dressing and clean the wound daily," I instructed, handing her a fistful of gauze and bandages, "otherwise, it'll get infected and…and she'll need medicine." The look in her eyes told me she understood; antibiotics - like so many other things - were not easy to come by in London these days.

"I'll do my best, Miss." Her hand trembled as she reached out for the supplies, the corners of her eyes moist with the tears she'd refused to shed in front of her daughter. "Thank you so much."

I squeezed her hand. "If you'll proceed to the next tent, they'll provide you with blankets and help you find a place to stay for the evening."

As she hurried away, I took a quick moment to catch my breath. Blowing a long gust of air through narrowed lips and brushing my arm over my forehead, I pushed back the strands of hair that had escaped the confines of my headscarf. My eyes followed the woman and her young daughter's path as they exited the tent, and I couldn't help but mentally compare the view beyond them to those views with which I'd grown up: the green, woodland forests of Forks, the rising industry of Seattle, and the glitter and glamour of New York City.

Now, instead of green mountains and silver skyscrapers, my eyes swept over a pair of long thin fire hoses with rushing streams of white water gushing over the grey heap of rubble that had once been an apartment building. On its side next to the rubble lay a red double-decker bus, its massive weight crushing a red, cylindrical mailbox. The mailbox's contents lay scattered around with the rest of the wreckage this evening - all courtesy of Hitler's latest vengeance rocket.

It's strange, the things your mind chooses to focus on during such events. For example, I remember closing my eyes and giving thanks that the air raid siren had finally ceased its maddening whine. I also recall marveling at how the red bus and the red mailbox were the only elements of color in an otherwise grey, bleak background - like two beacons of hope amidst a hopeless landscape of pulverized concrete and debris. I even found myself pitying those poor souls who might now never get the mail that was floating around in the London evening breeze. Had the authors of those letters had important news to convey – deaths or births? Or were the letters mostly filled with idle gossip?

With a quick shake of my head to clear it, I turned my attention back to the job at hand.

The next woman who'd taken the seat vacated by the little girl held a palm tightly to her hairline. Her face was plastered in dry, streaking blood, which had at some point oozed down her neck and stained the cream-colored nightgown she'd apparently worn to bed before her world literally exploded.

I did my best to clean her off, then I moved her hand away to examine the gash.

"Did you lose consciousness at any point after the explosion?"

"No, Miss. I stayed awake through the whole bloody mess, I did. But is it quite bad?" Her voice quivered.

"It's long but superficial," I reassured her. "You'll need a few quick stitches since head wounds do tend to bleed a lot." I turned away hastily to gather my supplies, hoping she hadn't noticed me wince at my own words.

_"Head wounds bleed a lot, even superficial ones."_ Masen had said those very words to me on that day so long ago when I'd defiantly jumped into the river and ended up with a head gash of my own.

OOOOOOOOOO

When the long line of injured finally subsided and those more serious cases had been transported to hospitals, my fellow Red Cross volunteers and I cleaned and washed up. As we were dismantling the women and children's tent, Peter and a few other officers who'd volunteered to help made their way over from the men's tent.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked rather impatiently, and in my mental and physical state of exhaustion, I merely nodded.

We caught a cab a few blocks away, yet the distance was far enough from where the nightmare had occurred that discussion of the explosion was only a topic of gossip – and not even an extraordinary one. In the early hours of the morning, the horrors of the previous evening were relegated to yesterday's news as early Londoners walked around getting ready for the day with their chins defiantly held high despite silent missiles exploding all around them, despite years of hard rationing, despite insufficient food, inadequate nutrition and worn clothing.

"They're estimating over eighty casualties from last night's bombing," I murmured, gazing out of the window.

"At least Churchill is finally acknowledging that they're not 'faulty gas mains'," Peter snorted. "Though no one was fooled by that story in the first place."

"One of the Red Cross volunteers told me that last spring's rockets at least made a hissing sound as they approached, giving people some warning, but these…" I shuddered, "these just fall silently from the sky, terrifying everyone even more."

"Which is exactly the intent."

We rode the rest of the way to Grosvenor Street in silence. When the elegant grey façade of the U.S. Embassy came into view, I shrugged back into my warm coat and gathered my purse, sighing deeply at the sight of the much more nondescript, grey building about a half a block away where I'd spent most of my days for the past three weeks.

As we entered the lobby of OSS and SOE headquarters, the British counterpart to our office, Peter turned his gaze to me.

"Isabella…I've asked you before. You _have_ to stay away from those bombings."

"How can I stay away from the bombings?" I replied flippantly. "It's my cover, isn't it? Supposedly, that's why I'm here - part of the American Red Cross. It's what the letters I've written home say and what everyone believes – well, everyone except Papa Phil, of course, who's most likely going-"

Peter reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to halt and face him.

"It's not really why you're here, and you know that."

"Then why am I here?" I hissed, jerking away from him. "Is it to translate document after document confiscated from the French Vichy? It's all I've been doing since we arrived three weeks ago. For God's sake, there's an entire team dedicated to that job. Do they really need one more?"

"Translating those documents is important work, Isabella, and you know that," he retorted heatedly, his blue eyes darkening as he leaned in close. "It helps us figure out many of the Nazis plans - how they reason and what they think. As a matter of fact," he whispered, "I was just informed yesterday by one of our SOE counterparts that they're preparing to leak information implying that the rockets are overshooting their London targets by ten to twenty miles, which will hopefully make the Nazis recalibrate their targets and hit less-populated areas."

"That doesn't very well help those people out there tonight," I said, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. "And it sure as hell doesn't help me find Edward."

He closed his eyes, breathing out heavily through his nostrils before reopening them. "No, it doesn't help the people out there tonight," he said much more calmly, "but it'll hopefully help others in the future. And as for finding Edward…Isabella, you need to be patient."

"I'm tired of being patient, Peter," I said in a strangled breath. "In Seattle, the OSS operative trained me for more than translating documents. She said I'd be sent into the field. She said I had to be ready to-"

"As your luck would have it," Peter gritted through his teeth, "that's the main reason why I met with our SOE counterparts yesterday morning." He swallowed and held my gaze steadily as I stood perfectly still.

"They've decided to send you in."

OOOOOOOOOO

We arrived at Harrington Air Base a few evenings later, on the month's first night of a full moon. Harrington was a large piece of grassy, flat land a few hours from London that had been loaned to the U.S. Air Force by the Royal Air Force for the more clandestine operations carried out by both.

A black, non-descript car had picked up Peter and me from OSS Headquarters, its windows draped in long dark curtains that gave one nothing much to do inside the car but lose oneself in thoughts, perhaps thoughts of preparation for what lay ahead.

_I_ thought of Edward.

It had been almost five months since I'd last heard from him, since the arrival of the dual telegrams that had ripped and shattered so many lives. Now, I was headed to the place from where Edward had taken off for the final mission he'd flown. The airfield that had last felt his warm, glowing presence. Dozens of questions circled around in my head, and now, I was finally heading towards the place where I might begin to get some answers.

Yet at the same time, as we cleared the checkpoint and circled the dark, lonesome base, the reality of what I was preparing to do for those answers began to set in. A sliver of fear raced up my spine and made me shiver – quite a delayed reaction, yes, I knew.

Instinctively, as whenever I was feeling anxious, the thumb and forefinger on my right hand grazed my left ring finger – yet now it circled around skin and bone and nothing more. In Seattle, my engagement ring had been one of the first things I'd been told to leave behind.

When the car finally stopped, I barely had a moment to collect my bearings before I was handed out to a young Lieutenant who saluted Peter before asking us to follow him. My pulse raced with a mixture of unease and excitement, trepidation that I was headed towards some obscure unknown coupled with the knowledge that just a few short months ago, Edward had been at this same base, had walked these same paths, and perhaps had even headed towards the same corrugated steel hut to which I was now being led.

I whispered my thoughts to Peter, who walked silently next to me.

"Do you think I'll be able to ask someone inside about Edward?"

He made a low sound deep in his throat and muttered something inaudible before looking sideways and hissing back,

"Bella, I don't know what you can find out in the amount of time you'll actually be here - or from whom, but don't you think you should be focusing on what you're getting yourself into?"

I held his gaze for a few seconds, taking in the furrowed brow, the mouth pressed into a tight line, and then I returned my eyes forward.

OOOOOOOOOO

We entered the sparse and cold hut, where the Lieutenant swiftly opened another door not too far down and motioned for Peter to enter. Before I could follow, I was directed to a room a bit further down, where I was given a solitary nod before having the door shut soundly behind me.

The two female officers waiting inside stood behind a small, rectangular table laid out with an assortment of items, from clothing to papers to sanitary pads.

"Welcome, Brigitte. Please remove all your clothing," the one on the right immediately instructed in perfect French.

Without pause, I lay my purse on top of the table and pulled off my hat, removed my scarf, gloves and coat, all while praying that my shaking hands wouldn't betray me as I peeled off every other piece of clothing on my body until I stood before them bare as a newborn.

The entire time, both women kept their eyes on me with an entirely detached, clinical studiousness while I fought back the sheer terror of being so closely scrutinized. I forced myself to stand straight - shoulders back and chin high as I fisted my hands at my sides instead of allowing them to act as shields.

Then, the female officers both circled me, one clockwise and the other counter-clockwise so that one ended in the front and the other behind me. The officer in the front moved her gaze slowly up and down my body, appraising every inch of me through dispassionate, objective eyes.

Of course, I'd been warned of this inspection, yet it did nothing to quiet the part of my sheltered mind that screamed how wrong this was. The only other person who'd ever seen me fully naked was Edward…and that had been so different.

_Edward_.

Edward had written to me that the Nissen huts built by the army were cold, damp structures where the frigidness seeped right into your very bones.

Edward had once walked this base, perhaps once spoken to these women.

_Edward_.

Dozens of questions burned in my throat like Papa Phil's brandy - warming me, instilling me with what he called "liquid courage" as I stood there allowing them to perform their inventory.

"Ouvrez la bouche," the officer in front ordered just as I'd parted my lips to ask my first question. She stuck a tongue depressor in my mouth.

"No fillings?" she asked in French before removing the depressor.

"I've never had cavities."

"Est que votre couleur naturelle des cheveux ou est-ce teints?"

My hand instinctively went to my hair, pulling on a few strands, and though it'd been a couple of weeks since I'd cut it into a short bob, I was still momentarily surprised by its lack of length.

"Yes, it's my natural hair color," I replied.

"En français, s'il vous plait!" she instructed. "From this moment on, you're to speak only in French, think in French, and breathe in French! We were told you were very fluent. Was that a lie, Brigitte?"

"Il n'a pas été un mensonge. Pardonnez-moi. Je suis juste un peu nerveux."

The officer frowned, and then the one who'd been cataloging me from behind moved to the front. Their eyes met, and they exchanged what appeared to be begrudging nods.

The officer in charge sighed and walked behind the desk to pick up the set of clothing on the far left.

"Very well, Brigitte," she continued in French. "These are the clothes you'll be going in with. We'll step outside while you get dressed, and then we'll return to go over the rest."

I nodded silently and began dressing as soon as they left, focusing on the minutiae required of slipping on items and buttoning this new-to-me-yet-obviously-worn dress. I marveled at the unimportant fact that they'd stepped out for me to dress, yet they'd had no qualms about their perusal beforehand. Concentrating on these trivialities was the only thing keeping me from running out of that room and searching every corner for _something_ that would lead me to Edward.

I was carefully and methodically buttoning the last button as they walked back into the room and without pause moved behind the desk. The officer obviously in charge picked up a brown leather satchel and handed it to me. This time, when she spoke, she did so in a much softer tone.

"Brigitte, these are the items you'll have to carry in your bag at all times." Her eyes held mine to emphasize the importance of her words. She picked up each item that had been laid neatly in rows on top of the desk and held up each object between us before handing it over to me. "Your identity card, your ration card, your certificate of non-belonging to the Jewish Race, your lipstick, French sanitary towels, and French cigarettes. The rest of these supplies," she said, shoving in everything else with less care, "are items that will be explained to you further in the briefing room. Any questions?"

"I don't smoke," I informed them in French.

She paused and sighed. "You should. It's bad enough you don't have cavities. You can't afford to stand out too much."

"Très bien," I agreed. "I'll smoke."

"Alright. They'll be waiting for you in the next room with further instructions. Good luck." She smiled for the first time, and then they both returned their gazes to the now-empty table, summarily dismissing me.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Do either of you know Captain Edward Cullen?"

When their heads snapped up, their expressions were ones of confusion more than anything else.

"He was a pilot for the carpetbagger missions, but he disappeared in July. His plane went down." Their matching confusion quickly morphed into wariness, yet I pressed on. "He's tall with reddish-brown hair and green-"

"Brigitte, they're waiting for you," the ranking officer cut me off impatiently.

"Please, if you can-"

"I remember him."

My heart gave one, slow painful thud before resuming at a furious pace. I took a couple of steps closer to the second officer, the one who'd actually uttered those words.

"You knew him?" I breathed.

As if she'd just realized what she'd said, the officer looked from me to her superior, apprehension spelled in the widening of her eyes, and just as I feared that the unspoken command upon her superior's face would keep her from elaborating, she turned back to me.

"I wouldn't say that I knew him, no, but…he was difficult not to notice," she blurted, her cheeks flaming. She side-eyed her superior warily, who was now watching her with a raised brow. "I saw him a couple of times in the mess hall and in the PX buying cigarettes."

"We're not allowed to associate with the pilots," the ranking officer cut in rapidly, "nor are we supposed to speak about any of the operations!" she hissed.

"I…" the other officer stuttered.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I'm sorry, but _please_, if there's anything else that you know about him," I pleaded, "anything at all-"

"Brigitte," the ranking officer said brusquely, "as I said, we don't associate with the pilots. Now please." She motioned with her hand for me to leave.

Pressing my lips together tightly to keep from screaming or crying or doing something that would completely ruin any chance I'd ever have of finding Edward, I turned to leave.

"His plane went down somewhere over France, and he and his crew were reported KIA. It was in the field reports, but we're never told specifics," the ranking officer said in English. "We don't even know where _you're_ going. He…he was known as a valuable pilot, and that's truly all we know. I'm sorry."

Keeping my back to them, I swallowed and nodded before walking out.

OOOOOOOOOO

The three people in the next room, including Peter, were all seated around a circular table. They stood as I entered, and introductions were made as I tried to disguise the way the female officers' curt information had left me reeling.

The ranking officer was a Major Whitney, a white-haired, kindly-looking air force officer. Next to him sat the SOE representative, Flight Lieutenant Jones, a younger man with a pleasant smile. Yet despite the cordial reception, there was an air of gravity in the room, an urgency to commit to the topic at hand without straying.

Yet these were the men who'd most likely have the information I sought. What had been Edward's mission? Where did his plane crash? How in the world could I go about finding him in a continent where everyone's main concern was winning a war rather than stopping to find one man who'd lost his way while fighting it?

As these thoughts quickly filtered through my head, Major Whitney hastily got us on track in a spoken French which was understandable enough, though nowhere near fluent.

"Where are you from, Brigitte?" he asked, testing me one last time.

"I'm originally from Paris," I responded in a French tongue a thousand times better than his, "but my parents moved to La Rochelle before the war."

"And what do you do?"

"I'm a nurse by training, taught by my mother, who died from cholera a couple of years ago."

"Where do you live?"

"I live on a small farm on the outskirts of La Rochelle."

For about fifteen minutes, the questions continued in this vein. Sometimes, the same question was repeated in a different manner, meant to throw me. Finally, Major Whitney appeared to be satisfied, and with a deep breath, he rested his steepled hands over the table in much the same manner I remembered Papa Phil always doing when he was ready to get down to business.

"Brigitte, I know you've already been briefed in detail on the mission, but we'll review it one more time."

"Oui, Monsieur."

"The city of La Rochelle was bypassed by the Allies after the invasion in June. A perimeter of about ten kilometers had been reinforced by anti-tank trenches, making it almost impossible for us to work our way in by land. Intelligence gathered by our friends on the ground indicates that there's a major submarine base from which U-boats are launched into the Atlantic. In addition, we have estimates that the German garrison encamped there numbers over 20,000."

Hands shaking on my lap, I nodded for him to continue.

"Now, taking La Rochelle right now isn't a priority, but destroying the submarine base is. We've got much of the area around the city surrounded, and we've been flying missions overhead, but we need information that can only be obtained from within. Your job isn't to collect the information we need - that's already being done. You'll be air dropped just inside the perimeter of the city, and your contact, Leah, a local nurse, will provide the information. She's already put in the story that she's requested your assistance as she's overwhelmed in the hospital. Now, the information will have to be handed over carefully, and you'll have to remain in the city for a number of days in order to avoid bringing suspicion upon yourself or causing the Germans to suspect Leah and/or the local Maquis."

"When should I head for the rendezvous point?"

"You'll be notified when it's time. Any other questions?"

"Non monsieur."

"Very good," he nodded. "Now, you've memorized the landmarks and the map you were given?"

"Oui."

"Good. And as I'm sure Lieutenant Vanderneck has stressed, you're to trust no one other than your handler, yet it's imperative that you blend in; that's really the most important aspect of your mission."

"I'll blend in, Sir."

Major Whitney held my gaze and slowly pushed something small towards me.

"One final thing…should you be caught." My breath caught silently as I looked down at the miniscule white pill in front of me. "It's a last resort, and it's completely up to you whether or not you take it."

With a small nod, I reached for the pill and pushed it deep into my dress pocket.

"Then…I suppose we're ready. Are you ready, Brigitte?"

As I'd been taught by Papa Phil, I met every man's eye steadily, and while both the Major and the SOE Flight Lieutenant met me with stoic, determined expressions, Peter's expression was much less resolute, wavering from stricken to panicked before he simply pressed his hand over his mouth and rubbed it roughly back and forth jaw to nose as if to keep himself from howling.

As for me…I won't say that as I sat in that chair being given instructions, panic hadn't been welling up inside me like a slowly building storm. In my twenty years, never had I imagined this scenario for myself; never would I have thought that my decisions would lead me to this.

A memory of Charlie, my dad, standing with me at the Chicago train station when I was nine years old suddenly invaded my mind.

"_You have to be my brave girl now…my strong girl…"_

I would be brave.

I would be strong.

"Oui, je suis prêt."

"Very well. Lieutenant Samuels will be in shortly to help you with your jumpsuit. Good luck."

The Major and Flight Lieutenant got to their feet, and though my questions rose like bile to my throat, I kept quiet. Somehow I knew, I'd get nothing from them without proving myself.

As they left the room, I was left behind with Peter.

"I can't believe I got you into this," he muttered darkly in a French tongue as natural as mine.

"Stop. Had you not come to me, I would've found another way."

"You would've _never_ found another way," he sneered. "Isabella, you can still back-"

"Brigitte," I corrected him with a wry grin meant to hide the true terror clenching my stomach.

"Brigitte," he scowled, nostrils flaring, "please be careful."

"Peter, I'll be fine. If something should happen though…" I breathed, leaning in closer over the desk. He swallowed and moved in. "If something should happen…my engagement ring as well as Edward's journals are back in my room at OSS headquarters. Promise me you'll make sure that it all finds its way back to Forks, back to the Cullens and…and back to Edward. Promise me."

He grabbed me roughly and pressed his mouth forcefully to mine. I pushed him away, grunting in fury.

Peter grinned. "I'm not promising _anything_," he hissed through his teeth. "You come back and give it to them yourself!"

And with that, he stood and walked out of the room.

OOOOOOOOOO

The Lieutenant who'd met us upon our arrival at the base earlier now accompanied me to the car in which I was taken to the airfield, where the glossy, black B-24 Liberator was waiting with engines already running.

Everything happened quickly from that point.

The Lieutenant led me to a small hole under the plane, where a ladder was dropped for me to climb, and once I'd climbed it, the Lieutenant removed the ladder, looked up, gave me a thumbs up, and slammed the hole's hatch door closed.

Heart beating furiously in my chest, I looked around the threadbare interior. The multiple guns that had been part of the B-24's original design had been removed in order to lighten its load for the more important cargo it now carried. The spaces where these guns had once been were covered with black, steel sheets, painted with the same dark gloss as the rest of the plane – which kept it from being spotted by German searchlights.

In the cockpit a few feet away sat the people who I assumed were the navigator, the bombardier and the pilot. Their faces were obscured by the darkness, but I could make out their profiles, and like the Major and Lieutenant who'd briefed me, their expressions were full of determination, yet there was a touch of hostility in the deep lines marring their foreheads, as if they'd done this so many times, lost so many friends that it was impossible not to feel angry every time they had to head out.

I wondered what Edward thought to himself before every mission.

"Take a seat and strap yourself in," one of them called out in English, apparently not having been informed of the 'all French' rule. "We're taking off."

I nodded and moved back, taking a seat on the long bench along the plane's right side and buckling in over my bulky suit as the plane's engine roared louder. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer for guidance because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. In that moment, as the Liberator soared into the sky, my stomach trembled and turned because finding Edward became as nebulous a possibility as was the darkness and clouds keeping us under cover. How would I find one man in the middle of a mission I was beginning to realize I may not even survive?

Stifling a whimper that would undo months of false bravado and blind hope, I reopened my eyes. They landed over the cockpit again, where the pilot's intense focus fixated me, helped ground me just enough to stave of the sharp, hollow breaths of hysteria spiraling up in my throat.

He was long and muscular, this pilot. Because we wouldn't be flying at high altitudes, the heavy suits and jackets that Edward had once told me of wouldn't be necessary. Instead, the pilot had on his leather bomber, his officer's cap, and his head radio over that. As he leaned in and moved the various levers necessary to keep us in the air, I squinted my eyes in the semidarkness of the cabin because…there was something about the pilot.

Despite the cool aloofness of his periphery, the stiffness in his shoulders, and the tension radiating off of him…he brought to mind booming laughter, a deep baritone voice…a dimpled and teasing smile…a wonderful night…

"…_take care of yourself too, Bella. And don't worry, I promise I'll keep an eye on that fella of yours – make sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble…" _

"Mac…" I breathed.

My head spun. Again, I closed my eyes; this time, to keep from passing out. When I reopened them, I once more took in the pilot, ready to admit that I'd been lying to myself. In my fear and desperation, I'd confused my memories.

But it _was_ him. I set the memory and the man in the cockpit side by side, and although the situations and expressions were so completely different, the man was one and the same.

Quickly unbuckling, I stood and then froze, recalling my instructions: there was to be no contact with the flight crew. They were only there to get me to my destination and nothing more.

I whimpered like a child, stuck between wanting to rush the cockpit and knowing that doing so would likely result in my death.

_Mac_.

Every mention Edward had ever made of him, from before he'd left the U.S., to his time here in England swam through my memories.

My legs gave out, and I sat back down heavily onto the bench, eyes locked on Mac's profile. As if my gaze suddenly took on physical form and touched him, his head quickly pivoted towards me. He met my eyes for one quick second, neither interest nor recognition registering before he turned back to his levers and instruments.

I can't say how long the flight lasted. All I know is that the entire time, my resolve vacillated between making my way to him and losing my nerve, limbs going lifeless and immobile.

Eventually, the glowing green light came on, and I'd lost my chance.

It was time for me to go.

Every nerve ending in my body pulsated. I wanted to break into sobs and tell them I'd changed my mind - that I was the wrong woman for this job. Yet as the bombardier came for me and opened the hatch, my legs moved of their own accord. Standing and hands nimbly adjusting my suit, I checked my parachute as I'd been taught. I breathed in and out, chest heaving as I stared out at the total and complete blackness below me.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

My eyes trailed once more towards Mac. He held the plane hovering, as steady as possible, eyes focused. The bombardier gave me the thumbs up sign.

"Mac!"

My weak, strangled cry went unheard.

"MAC!"

He stiffened momentarily, and then his head whipped around instinctively at the sound of his name.

There was an endless moment in which our eyes met and held, and as I dropped through the hole and into the blackness, my mind replayed over and over Mac's face going from initial confusion, then morphing into recognition, and finally into utter horror as I leapt.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**If all goes as planned, there will be two updates next week. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**

*****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED:*****

**The V-1 and V-2 Rockets of WWII:**

**The V-2 (German: Vergeltungswaffe 2, "Retribution Weapon 2") was the world's first long-range guided ballistic missile. The missile was developed in Germany as a "vengeance weapon," designed to attack Allied cities as retaliation for the Allied bombings against German cities. The missiles were fired from launch facilities along the French and Dutch coasts.**

**The V-2s replaced the noisier V-1 rockets that Germany had begun launching towards Allied targets in June, 1944, as retaliation for the D-Day invasion. At its peak, more than 100 V-1s a day were fired at south-east England, decreasing in number as launch sites were overrun by allied forces. **

**Beginning in September 1944, over 3,000 V-2s were launched by the German Wehrmacht against Allied targets, first London and later Antwerp and Liège. While the V-1 missiles had been nicknamed "Buzz Bombs" because of the high-pitched buzzing sound they made as they flew overhead, the V-2s made no such sound, providing absolutely no warning when one was near. According to a 2011 BBC documentary, the attacks resulted in the deaths of an estimated 9,000 civilians and military personnel, while 12,000 forced laborers and concentration camp prisoners were killed producing the weapons.**

**As Germany collapsed, teams from the Allied forces—the U.S., Great Britain and the Soviet Union—raced to capture key German manufacturing sites, guided missiles, rockets and jet powered aircrafts. Near the end of the war, over 100 key V-2 personnel surrendered to the Americans, and through a sequence of events, a significant portion of the original V-2 team ended up working for the US Army. The U.S. also captured enough V-2 hardware to build approximately 80 of the missiles. The Soviets gained possession of the V-2 manufacturing facilities after the war and proceeded to re-establish V-2 production and move it to the Soviet Union.**

**Many of the scientists that had worked on producing the V-2 for Germany were eventually transferred to NASA upon its formation in October 1958.**


	62. Chapter 61 - Vive la Résistance

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I know many of you are wondering how I'm going to close this up in less than a handful of chapters. You'll see. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

*****PLEASE NOTE THAT WHILE THE DIALOGUE IN THIS CHAPTER IS WRITTEN IN ENGLISH TO MAKE READING EASIER, BELLA IS ACTUALLY SPEAKING IN FRENCH. (It would've been too confusing for all of us if I wrote an entire chapter's dialogue in French). ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 61 – Vive la Résistance**

The drop itself, I don't remember. I was more focused on landing in one piece and in trying to get over the shock of seeing Mac piloting the _Liberator_. But in my dreams, I clearly relive that tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach, that strange feeling of falling…falling…

To this day, it wakes me in the middle of the night. When I open my eyes, I still expect to find myself on my back in a pitch black field on the outskirts of La Rochelle, France staring up at the bright stars. I can still smell the sticky-sweet scent of rotten vegetation invading my nostrils as I tried to catch my breath. I can feel the overwhelming urge to remain hidden amidst the wide pasture of frost-decayed sunflowers, watching the full moon cast a bluish-gray haze over the entire field. I remember the surreal beauty of it all as I lay there with the cool, French evening breeze comforting me like a gentle caress. I could almost believe I was back in Forks - pretend that I was warm and safe; that the rumbling far off in the distance was the rush of the Sol Duc River and that Edward…Edward lay next to me, gazing up at the same stars as I.

After a few more deep breaths, I forced myself into a sitting position and removed my gear.

"Come on, Bella - damn it, _Brigitte_ \- sitting here won't do you or anyone else any good!"

Standing, I took in the shadow of a farm about a half-mile to the east, the slope of a hill to the northwest, and the hint of light further in the distance.

"Four miles east into the city center."

Slowly, I took one step and then two. Passing the farm, I took my balled up gear and stuffed it behind the bales of hay stacked up next to the wooden shed – just as I'd been instructed. I adjusted my satchel crosswise over my coat, smoothed out my clothing just as I'd seen Papa Phil do hundreds of times, and situated my blue beret sideways on my head. Yes, donning a French beret may sound cliché today, but clichés exist for a reason. Berets were how members of the Resistance identified one another.

It took over an hour to make my way to the city center. As pastures and woods gave way to paved roads and structures, urban sounds replaced the rumbling in the distance: footsteps on concrete, the honking of a car's horn. When I crossed the ancient short bridge leading me to the city proper, my breath caught silently in my throat.

As Leah, my contact, would proudly reflect over the next few days, La Rochelle is a coastal city with a plethora of rich history, from Roman occupation in ancient times to English occupation to serving as a base for the Knights Templar to English occupation once again during the Hundred Years' War. As my eyes scanned the city streets, it was easy to see all that history laid out in half-timbered medieval houses and Renaissance architecture, in narrow passageways covered by ancient arches, in majestic castles with cone-shaped towers. Yet it was none of that which had stunned me.

Other than in newspapers and films, I'd never seen a German soldier. Now, they were scattered about everywhere with their guns slung over their shoulders, talking with one another sedately and unhurriedly, stopping to admire a trinket in a store window, pointing at an object in the distance – waving to their comrades rolling by in heavy grey panzers.

The scene was…bewildering, yet I could hardly stop to examine it. Despite my amazement at the apparent normalness of it all, at how commonplace they appeared standing around in their grey-green uniforms and tall boots, no one appeared shocked. No one stopped to stare, to gasp in fear or to point as they spoke in their native tongue.

But I suppose my astonishment was enough to disorient me. I came to a stop, turning in a one-hundred and eighty degree arc while I carefully scanned the buildings around me. They were all the same color and height, each seeming to run into the next one with no distinguishable features or characteristics.

"Excuse me, do you need help finding your way?"

With a startled little jump, I turned towards an elderly French lady about half my height.

"Is it very obvious?" My stomach twisted at being so noticeably lost – and so soon.

"No, not very obvious," she chuckled, "but we older folks tend to notice these things. Besides, I know how hard it is to find your way with these horrid streetlamps. Though we must be thankful that the Allies haven't completely shut off our power," she added with a conspiratorial whisper. "What exactly are you looking for, ma chérie?"

I opened my mouth to respond, and then I noticed a couple of German soldiers strolling our way. Their slow gait and nonchalant appearance gave no indication that they were paying us any mind, but in my heightened state, my scalp prickled in fear.

The elderly lady must've seen something in my eyes. Her head pivoted, following my gaze. When she shifted her eyes back to me, they were narrowed in warning.

"Quickly, what are you looking for?"

"L'hôpital d'Auffredy."

"It's through that arch." She jutted her chin. "And pull your hat down further to hide that pretty hair; don't let them see your face too much either. Have a good evening, Mademoiselle."

"Oui. Merci," I breathed. "Good evening to you as well."

Crossing the street while trying not to call attention to myself, I made my way through the narrow alley, sighing in relief when I chanced a backwards glance and found no one behind me. Emerging on the other side, the hospital appeared abruptly in the middle of the narrow street, greeting me with yet another arch suspended in between two columns. Further in, there was a staircase which was flanked by two more German soldiers. I approached the entrance as if I hadn't a care in the world, avoiding the gaze of either guard and stifling a scream when they both moved in, blocking my way.

"Good evening, Fräulein," one said in French heavily accented by his native German. "What can we help you with?"

"Good evening," I replied evenly. "I was summoned to assist in one of the wards."

"Are you expected?"

"Of course. I have the papers right here..." I rummaged through my satchel.

"Pull out all your papers and hand over your satchel for inspection."

Bile rose to my throat, yet as serenely as possible, I pulled out all my papers and handed them to the first soldier while surrendering my satchel to the second one. As the first soldier examined my papers, his eyes would flit from one document to my face and back again. Out of my periphery, I could see the second one hunting through my satchel.

Finally, they looked at each other, and the one holding my satchel shrugged sluggishly, returning my bag with a bored "Merci" just as the first one returned my paperwork.

"Have a good day, Fräulein Swan."

"Merci. A good day to you as well."

OOOOOOOOOO

I made my way up to the third floor and walked down a long, dimly-lit hallway, passing a couple of young women who side-eyed me with open curiosity. A phonograph played somewhere, the gentle crooning of a French woman contrasting with the loud German being spoken from a few of the rooms I passed. As I approached the nurses' station, a solitary woman wearing a female version of the German uniform sat grim-faced at the desk.

"Good evening, I-"

"Brigitte, ma chérie, you've finally arrived!"

I turned around.

"I was beginning to think we'd have to find someone else to help with the load!" continued the young woman who'd spoken. "Thank goodness you made it before curfew!"

She looked straight into my eyes and grinned as if she'd known me for years, and I returned the grin as if I knew exactly who this beautiful, raven-haired, porcelain-faced young woman was. Half skipping, half running, she pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Keep your mouth shut, and let me do the talking!" she hissed rapidly in my ear.

Pulling back, she wrapped one arm around my waist and spun me around, leading me away from the woman at the desk.

"Come, Brigitte. Let me show you around so we can begin right-"

"Fräulein Laurent!" the woman at the desk barked.

We halted instantly, and I watched as the young woman closed her eyes and pressed her lips together into a thin line. Yet before turning around, she wiped all expression off her beautiful face.

"Who is this?" the other woman questioned. Like the soldiers who'd greeted me downstairs, her French was heavily accented by her native tongue.

"Leutnant Krause," the young woman said, "this is my friend, Brigitte, who will be helping us around the ward."

The German woman stood, coming around the desk to stand before us. I lifted my head high to take in her six-foot-tall frame and did my best not to cower.

"Who approved this," she scowled, her glare making it clear that I was the "_this_" to which she referred, "and why was I not informed?"

"Oberleutnant Frank approved the request for a new nurse. As you know, we've been shorthanded since the city was surrounded. As for why you weren't informed, I have no idea; you'd have to ask the Oberleutnant."

Sparks of fire seemed to erupt from within the German woman's eyes. She took a step closer, forcing my head to tip all the way back.

"Hmph! Another…midget like you," she spit, obviously having had to struggle for the right word. "What use can another midget possibly be?"

"I assure you," I retorted instinctively, "despite my size, I-"

The young woman pinched my side. I withheld a whimper.

"True, she's quite small and probably not very strong," she chuckled, "but she has the necessary skills to help out around here. Our mothers were good friends. Both were nurses."

"Then why hasn't she been here before?"

"She's been tending to the farm," the young woman replied before I could open my mouth. "But with no money to plant anything…" she shrugged.

"Let me see your papers!" The German woman demanded.

"Leutnant Krause, if she's up here, then obviously her papers have already been checked. Please, you have work to do, and so do we. The soldier in Room 2 is waiting for his medication, and the soldier in Room 4 needs-"

"Fine! Fine! Go on!" Leutnant Krause growled, jerking her chin towards the long hallway. "But I'll be speaking to Oberleutnant Frank to see why he didn't inform me of this!"

"That's certainly your prerogative," the young woman responded, spinning us around once more. Yet, as we walked away, Leutnant Krause offered us some parting thoughts which, though spoken in German, were muttered loudly enough for us to hear.

"_Wahrscheinlich hast Du ihn so gut gevögelt, dass er deiner Bitte nachkomm!"_

Thoughts of Peter abruptly invaded my mind. Memories of how his mouth would move around German when we were kids, boasting about how his trilingual abilities outshone my bilingual ones.

I suddenly wished he was here to translate.

Though apparently, it wasn't necessary. Without pausing for an instant, the young woman's back stiffened, and as I looked over at her, her chin defiantly rose high into the air, and her nostrils flared.

"If they were the last race left in the world, I still wouldn't fuck your Aryan Nazi scum," she seethed so silently only I heard.

OOOOOOOOOO

Her name was Leah Laurent, and she and I spent the rest of the night orienting me around the ward, introducing me to the other couple of nurses, and to the patients – who I noted were all German soldiers. When asked where I lived, I responded that I lived on a farm just outside of town. When told that my accent was different from the local one, I informed them I was originally from Paris.

"Ah! Of course," one of the nurses cried. "What a lovely Parisian accent!"

By then, I'd been up for almost twenty-four hours, yet adrenaline kept me awake and alert. In the very early hours of the morning, one of the patients began seizing. Leah, another older nurse named Marie and I rushed into his room with the attending doctor, a Frenchmen by the name of Docteur Agen. We worked hard, but we couldn't save him.

Leah, Marie and I stepped out of the room and left the doctor to wait for Oberleutnant Frank – who apparently had to check to make sure there was no foul play and that we'd actually done everything we could.

"He was part of a unit of seven that were ambushed by the Americans just outside of La Rochelle's perimeter," Leah whispered as we walked out. "Three were killed instantly. The three that carried him into the hospital spoke of at least getting some of the Allied _feindes_ with grenades." She met my eyes. "We did try our best, but I'm glad he died." Her voice was low and cold.

"Why are there no French patients?" I whispered quickly.

"Because," she snorted, "there's not enough medicine for them."

OOOOOOOOOO

Oberleutnant Frank came to interview us on the protocol we followed regarding the dead soldier. He was young, of average height and build and in his early thirties with hair so blond it was almost white.

When the sun began to rise, Leah declared our shift complete. My first day as a "nurse" in a French hospital was over.

We buttoned up our coats and made our way off the ward with her arm slipped through mine as if we were the best of friends. And as we approached the two guards on duty by the exit, I couldn't help trembling.

"Relax," Leah breathed through an unmoving mouth.

"Have a good morning, Fräuleins," one of the guards called out.

"Merci!" Leah replied, leading me away at a brisk pace. "We'll be back in a few hours!"

"How-"

"Shh!" she ordered me roughly. "No talking until we're away from the hospital!"

Leah guided me through arched passageways and along quaint, narrow streets until we arrived at an older apartment building. We climbed the steps to her fifth floor flat.

As soon as she opened the door, she made a beeline for the bedroom, and I heard her groan before a squeaky mattress dipped.

It took me less than a minute to take in my surroundings. It was a small, sparse but clean apartment. The front room was empty save for an old grey loveseat with a cheap replica of one of Monet's works over it. A miniscule kitchen was off to the right. A half-open door led to what I saw was the bathroom on the left.

I followed Leah into the room to which she'd disappeared and found a modest bedroom with a double bed, a nightstand, and an aged white dresser with an oval mirror.

Leah was thrown over the bed, lying on her stomach.

"I don't suppose you need a tour." Her voice was muffled by the pillow she hugged.

"No, that's fine, thank you." I took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Why don't you lie down?"

"I don't think I could sleep. I suppose I have too much on my mind."

I heard her moving around behind me. When I turned around, she'd flipped over on her back, her arms folded behind her head. Her legs were bent at the knee, and her dark eyes studied me intently, short black hair standing out against the white backdrop of her pillow. Even then, lying on her bed, I could see the wild spark in her dark eyes, the savage restlessness in the way her legs continuously opened and closed, offering me a careless view of the underwear beneath her dress.

"It was an easy night, though I warn you, it's not always that way."

"I can handle it, but shouldn't we talk about-"

"Talk about what?" Her eyes held mine, measuring me up.

I crooked an impatient brow. Just a few hours ago, I'd parachuted into a country unknown to me and then spent an entire night amongst sick Germans. If nothing else, I felt entitled to answers.

"About why I'm really here. About what you have-"

"Why are you really here, Brigitte?"

There was an irritatingly wry grin of amusement spread across her face. I opened my mouth to reply, and Leah expelled a hearty giggle.

"Go to sleep, Brigitte. You may be full of energy, but I'm exhausted, and we have to be back at the hospital by noon. We can talk before then."

I don't recall falling asleep. All I remember is begrudgingly lying down next to Leah and listening to her quiet breathing grow steadier. I recall closing my eyes and fighting back panic, the river that had followed me and threatened to drown me all the way in France. Suddenly exhausted, I moved my lips silently around a plea.

"Please don't allow all this to be for nothing. Please keep him safe." Then, in my mind I added, "I'm here, Edward. I'm here to help you find your way back."

OOOOOOOOOO

When I opened my eyes, the sun filtering in through the white curtains had dipped into a mid-morning position.

Leah was singing. Sitting and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I could hear her moving around the kitchen. I caught sight of her walking back and forth busily with a cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth. She stopped and looked towards the bedroom.

"Aha!" she cried, when she spied me awake.

Thirty seconds later, she walked into the bedroom carrying a tray. Sitting next to me in her silky black slip, she held the tray between us. When I spotted the bread and slab of cheese, my stomach growled.

"I hadn't realized how hungry I am," I murmured, cheeks growing hot at this display of nature.

Leah chuckled. I angled myself sideways and dropped my legs to the side of the bed so that I could sit alongside her. Balancing her cigarette between her lips, she slid a serrated knife through the exact middle of the bread. Then she used both hands to cut the cheese in two equal portions.

"You definitely needed to sleep first." She reached around me to put out her cigarette on the ashtray over the dresser. "You were a cranky bitch a few hours ago."

Ignoring the name calling, I proceeded to devour my banquet of slightly stale bread and hard cheese, feeling her eyes on me as she methodically chewed on her own portion.

"From now on," she spoke through a full mouth, "when we're at the hospital, make sure your hair is completely hidden by your scarf. The color is too…healthy."

My hand instinctively reached for my hair, recalling Edward's fingers trailing down the strands when it was much longer.

We did away with the rest of our meal in silence. When Leah was done, she stood and pulled out a box of cigarettes from her top dresser drawer, holding it out to me.

"No, thank you. _Now_ may I ask you something?"

She leaned casually against her dresser and lit herself a cigarette, squinting an eye. "Go ahead."

"How old are you?"

There was a momentary, almost imperceptible pause before she blew out a haze of smoke to the side.

"I'll be nineteen on Christmas day."

"Then how…how are you already a nurse?" I asked.

"I suppose things work differently here than they do in Paris," she smirked, eyeing her cigarette. "Anyway, I've been a nurse since I was sixteen."

I nodded slowly. "And how long have you been a…"

Another wry grin formed on her face. "Much longer. And you?"

"Not very long at all."

"It shows."

She laughed at my expression. "I suppose Paris no longer needs resistance. Unfortunately, we're not as lucky here."

"What do you have for me?" I asked, ignoring that statement.

She held my gaze with those disconcertingly dark eyes of hers, pulling the smoke from her cigarette with languid inhalations.

"I'll give it to you when we're both ready," she finally responded, "when I think it's safe. There's no point in you walking around with it now. I'm not quite convinced you're the best person they could've sent, and should you happen to be caught, being found with…information will implicate too many people – including me."

I merely nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. I'm not exactly looking forward to walking around with _information_ anyhow, regardless of what it may be."

She put out her cigarette on a different tray sitting on her dresser. "For now, we'll work together and act like the best of friends. We'll survive while these Nazi bastards watch our every move. Any other questions before we prepare for this afternoon's shift?"

"Actually…yes." I drew in a deep breath and forced myself to hold her gaze because I had a feeling this girl trusted no one who cowered under her black eyes. "I'm looking for a man."

"Aren't we all?" she snorted, turning to open a drawer and pulling out a dark blue blouse. She held it up for inspection in front of the mirror. "Unfortunately, these are not good times to look for a man."

"I mean a specific man."

Now, she turned to face me. "Even worse," she said dryly, though her eyes held more curiosity than she'd let on.

"He's an American pilot. He was flying a Liberator a few months ago and was shot down in July, a few weeks after the invasion."

A million questions flashed through those dark, expressive eyes, yet I could tell that she was measuring her words before responding.

"There are so many of those. I don't know how you'd expect to find a specific one. Where was he shot down?"

"That…I don't know."

"It doesn't matter," she said after a few seconds' pause. Pivoting back to the dresser, she slipped one arm and then the other through the blouse, watching me through the mirror. "Either way, I know nothing of any airmen being assisted around here. We have enough of our own problems without adding "helping downed pilots" to the list."

"Of course." I stood quickly. "May I wash before we leave?"

"Certainly," she replied. "The bathroom is through there. I'll bring you some clothes you can borrow. We're more or less the same size."

With a nod, I made my way into the bathroom. When the door shut behind me, I rested heavily against it, shutting my eyes tightly and muffling my screams with my fist.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next few days were ordinary – or as ordinary as they could be in a French hospital in an occupied and surrounded city. Our shifts consisted of 16 to 20-hour work days. With the siege, there was no news getting in or out. Radios and newspapers weren't allowed. With a nine p.m. curfew strictly enforced throughout the city, there was nothing much to do other than work, eat stale bread, cheese and vegetables, and sleep.

As for Leah and I, we acted like good friends and coworkers in public, but in the early hours of the morning, when we arrived back at her apartment, there were few words between us. There was a mutual distrust, despite having been told we had to trust one another, a feeling that both of us had secrets we were unable or unwilling to share.

And that's how it was for the first few days.

OOOOOOOOOO

One night, we were busy working when there was an abrupt, loud commotion. Leah, Marie and I stepped out of the respective rooms we'd been in. My breath hitched silently at the sight of the man being dragged down the dark hallway by two German soldiers. He was bleeding profusely from under his beret and screaming at the top of his lungs.

_"Sale nazi! Tu peux aller te faire voir! Je n'ai rien à te dire! Fils de pute! Tu peux me faire ce que tu veux je- oof!"_

A long stick bashed against his head put an end to his railing, yet he shook off his pain and sluggishly continued his defiant tirade while being dragged right past me. As his eyes met mine, he stopped screaming and simply begged.

"Water. I need water. _Please_, bring me water."

I hadn't even realized I'd begun following him until someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Are you stupid?" Leah hissed. "Do you want to join him?"

Oberluetnant Frank and Leutnant Krause rounded the corner.

"What happened?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Leutnant Krause glared at me and kept walking, but the Oberleutnant stopped.

"He's a traitor," he said succinctly.

After waiting a few seconds for more information, which apparently wasn't coming, I turned quickly on my heel.

"I'll go get a room ready-"

The Oberleutnant cut me off, and as I whipped around, I noticed that Leah hadn't even budged, and though she was usually the quickest nurse, there was absolutely no urgency to her posture.

"There's no need, Fräulein Swan," the Oberleutnant said. "Obersturmfuhrer Wagner will be here soon enough to…take care of him."

With that, he followed in the direction of Leutnant Krause and the German soldiers, all the way to the end of the hallway, where they entered a room I hadn't yet been inside.

When I looked at Leah, all the blood had drained from her face. Her eyes were shut tight, and she swallowed thickly.

"What is it, Leah? What's happened?"

Opening her eyes quickly, that dangerous fire that I'd noticed in them from day one seemed to have multiplied, and she quickly scanned the now empty hallway before pulling me by the arm and dragging me almost as forcefully as the Germans had dragged the Frenchmen. We rushed into the first empty room we could find.

"Stupid, fucking…" she breathed raggedly. "I told them not to! I told them I'd worked something out with the Allies. The plans I'm to give you," she said urgently, her eyes boring into mine, "they're of the U-boat pens. A few…friends of mine wanted to blow them up, but I told them to wait for help! Impatient assholes!"

"What do we do?" I asked rapidly.

"There's nothing we _can_ do! The rest who followed him are probably dead, and now…now Obersturmfuhrer Wagner is coming!" Her dark eyes filled with more fear than I'd ever thought possible from her.

"Who is Obersturmfuhrer Wagner?"

She swallowed. "He's Gestapo - the SS." She clapped a hand over her mouth as if simply speaking the words horrified her. "Now they'll question him, and no matter how hard he tries to hold off…"

My blood ran cold, and I clapped my own hand over my mouth as the implications dawned on me.

Quick as a flash, Leah headed towards the door, and I grabbed her arm, forcing her back towards me.

"What do we do?" I insisted.

"_We_ do nothing!" she whisper-hissed. "_You_ will do your job and stay as far away from that room as possible!" And with that, she walked out of the room.

OOOOOOOOOO

Other than that day back in July, the next few hours were the most horrific I'd experienced in my life.

As instructed, I went on with my duties, attending to the wounded German soldiers and trying my best to ignore the room all the way at the end of the hallway.

The Frenchman continuing his ceaseless plea for water.

"Please, I need water! Just a few drops!"

Helplessly, my eyes would wander in that direction, my hands fisted at my sides, yet the sight of the two SS guards standing outside the door did away with any plans to sneak him some water.

Leah and Marie also went on with their evening, apparently ignoring the room.

"Please, water!"

The plea went on for what seemed like an eternity, completely ignored.

In the early hours of the morning, it changed slightly.

"Please, I'll tell you anything you want. Just give me some water!"

Leah, who'd been carrying a tray of supplies to one of the rooms, only stiffened slightly at this.

Snickers sounded from some of the occupied rooms. I'd been with Leutnant Krause at the desk, giving her a list of all the supplies I'd used that evening.

She snorted at the Frenchman's plea. "That one broke easily enough."

Marie appeared next to me. "Should I give him some water now?" she asked the Leutnant.

Leutnant Krause glared at her long and hard. "Half a cup. Not one drop more until Obersturmfuhrer Wagner arrives!"

"Yes, Leutnant Krause," Marie responded, hurrying off.

Leutnant Krause turned her attention back to me.

"You, take these magazines to the soldier in Room 5."

I nodded. Taking the dated German magazines from her, I made my way to Room 5. As I turned into the hallway, I collided with Marie, who'd been holding out a tin cup full of water.

"Oh!" she gasped, completely horrified.

"It's alright," I reassured her. "It's only water."

She shook her head minutely, and my brow furrowed as she quickly dropped to her knees and desperately tried to pick up the small puddle with her hands.

"We need every last drop!" she whimpered quietly.

I kneeled next to her. "Here, this way!" I whispered. Easing the cover of the magazine under the small puddle, we worked swiftly to pour the spilled puddle back into the cup.

I met her eyes. "Is that enough?"

"It'll have to be," she responded hurriedly before standing and walking away.

When I stood, I caught sight of Leah a few feet away, watching us. She met my eye momentarily before nodding and resuming her work.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as Leah and I arrived back at the flat early that morning, she rushed to the bathroom, and I heard her retching into the toilet. I followed her in and stroked her back as she expelled every last piece of bread and cheese we'd had in the past couple of days. When she was done, she quietly moved to the sink and rinsed her mouth.

When she turned around and began sobbing, I pulled her into my arms.

OOOOOOOOOO

We lay over her small bed, curled in on ourselves and facing one another. Leah had stopped crying a while ago, but small uneven gasps escaped her periodically. We searched one another's eyes silently.

"What was in the water?" I asked.

"Peace," she responded flatly. "What was waiting for him would've been…horrific, and he knew it."

"Is that why he was begging for water?"

She nodded. "At least now…he went in peace, and it'll just look like his heart gave out."

A silent tear rolled down my cheek.

"Tell me about your pilot," she finally said. "What does he look like?"

I held her gaze. "He's tall. He has copper hair – a color you don't see very often. More brown than red. His eyes are green."

"Is he handsome?" she asked.

"He's very handsome," I smiled faintly.

"How long have you known him?"

"I've known him since I was nine years old."

"Childhood sweethearts," Leah smiled.

"Not really. I have…always loved him, and I learned recently that he always loved me. But he fought it for a while."

Leah raised herself on an elbow, frowning. "Why did he fight it?"

"Because I think he always knew," I sighed. "Somehow, he always knew it would come to this, and I guess he wanted to…spare me."

For a long while, she was quiet, balancing herself on one elbow while searching my eyes. She lay back down on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

"I've never had a lover, but from what I've seen, men are very stupid."

I chuckled quietly. "No one ever said love was a smart emotion."

She snorted. "Did you...sleep with him?"

"Once," I breathed. "Yes."

"I knew it!" she declared, giggling and sounding more her age than she had since I'd met her. But then her expression sobered. "If he went down in July and there hasn't been word since, he's probably dead."

I shook my head vehemently. "No. No he's not."

"How do you know?"

"I just know." I raised myself up on my elbow. "Tell me how the resistance helps stranded airmen."

Leah sighed, still staring up at the ceiling. "We usually hide them in barns, in secret compartments until we can sneak them out and help them to the borders if they're close. Sometimes, we get them fake papers, but that can be tricky if they don't speak French." She paused. "I've not heard of any airmen since early in the year, Brigitte. Besides, we have to be very careful. Many of our own are willing to betray us just because we're communist."

"You're a communist?" I squeaked.

"Don't sound so horrified!" she glared at me. "There are worse things! Look at the scum we deal with every day!" she scowled. "Yes, many of us are communist, and many of our countrymen would rather collaborate with the Nazis than help us," she sneered. "We've been double-crossed before, and in the process, they double-cross the airmen trying to get home."

"Has that happened here?" I gasped.

"Not that I know of. But I have heard of it happening. When airmen are handed to the Germans, they're either killed on the spot or sent to the work camps."

"I've been told that captured Allied airmen are sent to the Stalag camps as prisoners of war."

"Most of them are, I suppose. But if they're found with the resistance, they're considered terrorists and not protected by the Geneva Convention. If you or I are ever caught, Brigitte, we won't be protected by the rules of war."

A shiver ran through me.

"You're not from Paris, are you?"

She snorted when I gave no answer.

"Well…" she finally said, "if you believe your pilot is alive, I'll believe with you."

The sob tore through me without warning. "Thank you," I cried before she engulfed me in her thin arms.

OOOOOOOOOO

From that day forward, our relationship changed. Not outwardly; we'd been best of friends outwardly from the beginning. But in the few hours we had to ourselves, we shared years' worth of our lives. Leah told me about her childhood, confessing that one morning when she was fourteen, she'd woken to find her parents gone and had been on her own since. And though I couldn't share too much, I told her about growing up with a wonderful father, a self-absorbed mother, and a stepfather who tried to control everything and everyone to make up for the mistakes of his past.

And as much as I could, I told her about Edward.

One evening, about ten days after my arrival, we were at the hospital. Marie, who I'd come to realize was also part of the resistance, approached Leah when no one else was around and quickly whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was made Leah's dark eyes grow wide and angry. She nodded quickly and walked away from Marie.

Fifteen minutes later, Leah walked out into the hallway and began vomiting.

I quickly went to her. Leutnant Krause also approached her, though keeping her distance and making loud sounds of bemoaning and disapproval.

"What are you doing?" she howled.

"She appears to be sick," I stated the obvious, laying a palm over Leah's forehead. "No fever," I murmured.

"I'm alright," Leah said. "I'm fine." Her chest heaved heavily from how profusely she'd vomited.

"Clean this up, then," Leutnant Krause ordered, "and get back to work!"

We cleaned up the mess, and just as Leah began to move away to return to her duties, she threw up again.

"Verdammte Scheisse!" Leutnant Krause yelled, marching angrily towards us as Leah kept vomiting.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said in between her retches. "I don't know-" She threw up again.

By this point, I was beginning to worry. "What's going on?" I murmured, cupping her cheek.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Maybe it's something I-" she vomited again.

"Well, we can't have you here if you're going to be retching everywhere! Get out of here and go dirty your own floors with your nonsense, and return when you're done vomiting!"

Leah threw up again. "Yes, Leutnant Krause. I apologize once again."

"Leutnant Krause," I said as submissively as possible, "may I please have permission to walk Leah home? It's almost curfew, and in her condition, I worry she won't-"

"It's fine, Brigitte," Leah said hastily. "You don't need to escort me."

But I was adamant. In the past week and a half, Leah had become my sister as much as Alice was.

"Please, Leutnant Krause. I promise to return quickly. I'll just make sure she makes it to the flat."

Leutnant Kraus exhaled heavily, scowling. "Very well," she snapped, "but I expect you back within the hour!"

"Thank you," I breathed hurriedly, wrapping an arm around Leah's waist before the Leutnant could change her mind.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as we were out of the hospital and out of sight, Leah pushed me off of her angrily.

"You idiot! You should've stayed safely in the hospital! Now on top of everything else," she threw her hands up in the air, "I've got to worry about your head as well!"

"What are you talking about?" I hissed, chasing her as she left the sick act behind and sped up to a brisk pace down the narrow city blocks and through various passageways. She didn't answer me. Instead, I followed her through the streets and across the small bridge that led out of the town center. Looking in every direction twice first, she approached a black car and reached in between where the left back tire met the car's body, pulling out a key and opening the front door.

"Get in quickly," she commanded.

We drove out of the main town center, through streets that became less populated and to the city limits where the rumbling I'd heard the day I arrived was more pronounced.

"Where are we going?"

"Shit! These people just don't learn! They want to try to blow up the U-boat pens _again_, as if the Nazi bastards aren't on to them by now! _Of course_ they'll be waiting for them! Now I have to catch up to them before they get their heads blown off!"

She stopped the car on a dirt road that backed into deep woods, and I thought of my wonderful, safe woods back in Forks. I pictured Edward emerging from the woods.

"Stay here and keep the car running!" Leah said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "I'll be back as soon as possible, so you can get back to the hospital before you blow both our covers!" She pulled something out from between her breasts and wrapped my hand around it. "Take this!" I stared down at the small pill. "If anyone approaches, swallow it and tell them you stopped because you didn't feel well and then fucking vomit on the nosey bastards!"

And with that, she slammed her door closed and ran into the woods.

I scooted over into the driver's seat and began waiting.

Fifteen minutes passed.

I stared into the black woods. The early December wind blew through the bare branches, scattering the few resilient leaves to the ground.

Twenty five minutes passed.

I stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood. Owls hooted in the distance and unknown creatures answered their calls. My eyes scanned the deserted road from which we'd come, straining to spot any lights or movement before they could spot me.

Thirty minutes passed.

I took a hesitant step towards the woods, and then another. Then I started running.

Leah emerged from the woods.

"What are you doing?" she scolded. "Get back in the car! Go!"

We both climbed into the car and sped away.

"Did you find them?" I asked breathlessly.

She nodded, eyes intently on the windshield. "The idiots!"

I breathed out in relief. We drove in silence until we came upon a railroad crossing with the warning bell ringing.

"_Merde_!" she moaned, slamming a fist against the steering wheel as she came to a stop. "We don't need this delay!"

The long train, so different from those of Papa Phil's, rambled by with its tires rumbling over the tracks, car after car after car.

"I suppose the rail lines will be the Allies' next priority after the U-boat pen," Leah murmured absently.

Meanwhile, my eyes remained glued to the never-ending cattle cars, their old wooden slabs periodically covering what took me a dozen or so cars to realize weren't cattle but…eyes. Human eyes.

"Who are they, and where are they going?" I whispered.

"They're Jews, Gypsies, Resistance, and anyone else Germany considers an enemy, and only God knows exactly where they're going."

The train seemed to never end. The whistle blew its steam, swirling into the night air while the wheels continued to turn rhythmically. My body began shaking, and my heart felt as if it were about to explode out of my chest. When the bile rose to my throat, I had to open the car door quickly to keep from vomiting inside.

Leah held back my hair. When I was done, the train had finally passed. Leah handed me a handkerchief and drove through the tracks.

"What happened, did you take the pill I gave you?" she asked, frowning at the windshield.

"No," I said shakily.

OOOOOOOOOO

Early the next morning, when I arrived back to the flat, Leah was waiting for me with soft cheese and hard bread. We ate quietly and went to bed.

When I woke, she was lying on her side, staring at me.

"How old were you when you and Edward made love?"

"I was seventeen - almost eighteen actually."

"I'll be nineteen in a few weeks, and I've never made love."

"It'll happen someday," I smiled.

She snorted, and when she grinned, I could already read the mischief in it.

"Describe it to me, Brigitte, from beginning to end. What's it like to have a man touch your body?"

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have shared the details of not only one of the most private experiences of my life, but also the most beautiful.

"It's…wonderful, when it's the right person," I breathed, "very romantic and sensual and…very fulfilling."

Her dark eyes grew wide. "They say a good lover can make a woman reach the same heights of pleasure that a man reaches. Is that true?"

"Yes," I chuckled, "it is. Edward is…a wonderful lover. That night…he was inexperienced like I was, but we figured things out well enough. I was afraid it wouldn't fit!" I admitted, remembering.

We both fell into quiet giggles.

She bit her lip thoughtfully, and slowly lowered herself onto the bed again. "I can't wait until a man makes me feel such pleasures, until he kisses me all over. Did Edward kiss you all over?"

"Yes."

"_All_ over?"

"_Yes_," I smiled.

We were silent, both lost in our own thoughts. In my case, I was reliving that night: Edward's intense gaze all over me…the trail of kisses he left all over my body…his every touch…his every gentle and deep thrust.

"Tell me more about him, Brigitte. Tell me absolutely everything you remember of him. Describe to me all the things he's ever made you feel – the good and the bad."

We spoke for hours, until it was time to get ready for the hospital. Without revealing my true identity or Washington or Forks or the magnificent evergreen where I first fell in love, I managed to tell her our story in the middle of a quiet, cold flat in the middle of war. And together, we forgot exactly what was going on around us.

OOOOOOOOOO

My departure was quick and uneventful.

Three days after our trip into the woods, Leah guided me surreptitiously into an empty room in the hospital.

"The film has been sewn into your coat. You're to leave after tonight's shift. Proceed towards the same field where you arrived. Someone will be waiting to sneak you through the perimeter and to the Allies."

My heart clenched painfully. "What about you?"

She smiled one of her wry smiles. "What about me?"

"This shouldn't be your life, Leah," I said, barely holding back the tears. "You should be in school learning how to be the best nurse in the world. You should be falling in love."

"I _am_ the best nurse in the world," she declared. "I learn something new every day, and as you've seen, much of it is quite useful. And I _do_ love. I love my country more than anything in this world, and if I die tomorrow, I die with a full heart knowing I died for _her_. It's the same as you knowing you died for your pilot - which I know you'd do in an instant. Nevertheless, I hope I don't have to die for my France nor you for your pilot, and I hope you find him and live a full, rich life together."

I hugged her to me tightly, so full of love for this young girl I knew for less than two weeks of my life. A girl I would've never in my life imagined meeting.

"Vive la Résistance," I whispered in her ear.

Vive la liberté," she replied, "et vive la France."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

******There will be another update on Monday.******

**German phrase translation: "You probably fucked him so good so he'd approve your request."**

**French phrase translation: "You Nazi scum! You can kiss my ass! I have nothing to say to you! You garbage! You son's of bitches! You can do whatever you want- oof!"**

**Thanks so much to Sandy Praeger and Sophie Bolla for help with the translations!**

****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY REGARDING THE ALLIED SIEGE OF LA ROCHELLE****

The **Allied siege of La Rochelle** occurred during WWII between September 1944 and May 1945 without heavy bombardment. When the Allies invaded France in June 1944, they bypassed La Rochelle, believing that just surrounding the city would be wiser than a frontal attack as the city would ultimately fall anyway with the end of the war. The German command also wished to keep control of the coastal garrisons and rejected evacuation in order to maintain a threat on Allied shipping in the Atlantic. La Rochelle was an important German base on the Atlantic since it was a major submarine base from where U-boat campaigns were launched.

In total, 39,500 French civilians were under German rule in La Rochelle during the war. The German garrison numbered 22,000 men. During the siege, the Allies still allowed for electricity, wood and some supplies to be delivered in order to alleviate the ordeal of the civilian population inside the walls of the city. The Free French Forces (organized French Resistance) wanted to take La Rochelle by force, mostly out of national pride. FFI troops, however, remained unable to capture the city. La Rochelle was surrounded efficiently enough, and suffered enough from the siege, with harbor facilities damaged by Allied air attacks and the Germans unable to launch major U-Boat attacks on Allied shipping for the duration of the siege. The city was liberated only at the very end of the war, nine months after the August 1944 Liberation of Paris, after the general German surrender on May 8, 1945.

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


	63. Chapter 62 - Miracles

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your continued thoughts. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

**Chapter 62 – Miracles**

**OOOOOOOOOO**

I was snuck out of La Rochelle in a bread truck.

The truck's purpose was to bring in supplies the Germans allowed for the civilians living in La Rochelle. Therefore, it was carefully screened both coming in and going out of the city, with dogs used to sniff out any humans or other contraband. Fortunately, plans had been made for this, which involved throwing "stale" pieces of bread to feed the dogs as soon as the truck was stopped. What the dogs and their owners didn't know was that the bread was laced with rabbit's blood and cocaine, to both attract the dogs and dull their sense of smell.

As I waited hidden in the secret compartment under the floorboards of the back of the truck, I doubted Jasper had ever thought up such a mixture for his dogs.

From the outskirts of La Rochelle, the U.S. Army transported me to the coast of Normandy, where I hitched a ride on the _Canterbury_, a British ship originally commissioned as a luxury passenger liner but converted into a troop carrier with the 1939 British declaration of war. In 1940, the _Canterbury_ made the trip back and forth across the channel to rescue thousands of British soldiers stuck in Dunkirk. Now, in mid-December 1944, it transported me across the same channel from which thousands of our soldiers, including Masen, had arrived months ago for the invasion. The white cliffs of Dover, so beautiful and majestic with white waves crashing against the rocks, welcomed me back to England. From there, I took a train through the countryside and into London.

As I gazed out of the window and watched the English countryside blur by, I wondered how strange it was that for most of my life, trains had transported me from one end of my destiny to another: From Mother's new life in New York to the country retreat in Washington State. From Edward to Jacob and back. From high school to college. From the news of death to the prospect of hope. Through wide prairies and rolling hills, to stunning mountains where magnificent evergreens grew all the way up to the mouth of heaven.

Now, the train rumbled past English castles nestled amid purple fields of lavender growing under an overcast sky and deposited me in the heart of London, where I was met by Peter. The relief in his eyes at seeing me was heartbreakingly palpable, yet instead of being touched…it made me furious - with both him and inexplicably enough, with Edward. After all, it was Edward who should've been looking at me that way, who should've been shaking with the overwhelming need to pull me into his arms and keep me safely there forever.

Instead, he'd signed up for a second tour.

Fully aware of the unreasonableness of my thoughts, I turned away from Peter and towards the window while we rode in the back seat of the car which had picked me up and was taking us back to OSS Headquarters. I calmed my unsettled nerves by gazing out at Big Ben in the distance, chiming the early morning hour.

"While you were gone, you received two letters from Alice Cullen."

"Damn it," I groaned. "Before I left, she'd written that she had ten days of R&amp;R coming up, and she wanted to see if I could ask the _"Red Cross,"_ I smirked, "for some time off so that I could meet her in Paris. I told her I'd try, and then I forgot to write her back with an excuse." I sighed. "I'll write her as soon as I can."

Peter was silent for a while. "Perhaps…you can still meet her there."

Staring out at the London landscape, I shook my head.

"Isabella, next week _is_ Christmas."

"Oh," I frowned, "it is, isn't it? I'd lost track."

Peter exhaled. "I've been informed that your stepfather has petitioned the U.S. Embassy for your return."

My head snapped around. "Can he do that?"

He trained his eyes forward. "He can petition all he wants. OSS will simply deny your involvement in any of its operations."

Exhaling a long, relieved breath, I returned my gaze to the window.

"Isabella…perhaps your returning to the U.S. would be for the best."

"No. No, I haven't been able to find out any information on Edward yet or where he may be."

"For all you know, he may be back in the U.S."

"You don't really believe that, so don't try to make me believe it. Besides, there would've been word."

"Christ, Bella, how long is this going to go on? My God, you could've gotten yourself killed in there!"

I met his indignant gaze with one of my own. "Well, I didn't. And this will go on as long as it needs to until I find Edward."

Peter closed his eyes, grinding the pads of his fingers roughly against his forehead while muttering something mostly unintelligible, though I managed to catch the phrase, "my own fault" in there.

"Fine," he snapped, reopening his eyes. "OSS is anxious to speak with you and retrieve what you were given. I've told them that I'll hand everything over to them this evening, but your debriefing can wait until morning so you can rest."

A few choice words made their way as far as the tip of my tongue before I was able to recall them. "That really wasn't necessary, Peter. I would've been fine attending the debriefing this evening."

The truth was that I _was_ exhausted. But it was the way Peter had been acting since we'd arrived in London a few weeks ago that was grating on my last nerve - as if his say in my life went beyond the fact that I was technically his operative.

Peter held my gaze. "In that case, if you're not tired, there's a Major McCarthy who's been eager to speak with you."

"McCarthy?"

He nodded. "He says he…was a friend of Edward's."

"A friend of Edward?" I breathed, surprised. "I don't remember any friend of Edward's by the name of McCarthy."

"Well, he was pretty adamant about knowing you," Peter frowned darkly. "He's staying at one of the Officer's Clubs in Piccadilly Circus, but if you'd rather not see him, I can have word sent." He sounded hopeful.

"McCarthy…McCarthy…" I murmured to myself, my brows furrowed as I stared into nothing and tried to stir my memory. But there was no one Edward had ever introduced me to by the name of McCarthy.

_McCarthy_. That is…unless…

"No," I shook my head, trying to contain my burgeoning hope. "No. I'll see him."

"Alright, fine," Peter said grudgingly. "But I'll accompany you to-"

"Peter, no."

I knew none of this was any of his fault. Deep in my heart, I knew that if nothing else, I owed Peter never-ending gratitude for helping me get this far – regardless of his underlying motives. _My_ motives certainly weren't selfless. Yet the more he tried to hold on to me, the more he tried to…protect me, the more I resented his efforts.

"Bella, Piccadilly Circus isn't exactly a safe area for a young lady to make her way around alone. Let me accompany you."

_Let __**me**__ be the one to take care of you, Bella_. It was spelled out clearly in his eyes.

I snorted. "Peter, after the things I've seen and done these past couple of weeks, the last thing I need is you playing my hero over something as ridiculous as a visit to Piccadilly Circus."

His nostrils flared at my rebuff while a flicker of pain crossed his features. And while I hadn't meant to sound so harsh, when he nodded stiffly and sulked away from me, I let him.

OOOOOOOOOOO

I hadn't been to Piccadilly Circus since I was a little girl visiting London for the first time with Mother and Papa Phil. We'd walked around the circle while I gawked wide-eyed at the electric billboards on the façade of the London Pavilion. All the while, Mother strolled happily hand in hand with rich and handsome Papa Phil, giggling and laughing in a way I'd rarely seen her do before – and rarely saw her do after.

When I arrived there that afternoon, I sort of wished I _had_ taken Peter up on his offer to escort me.

Stepping out of the cab, I was still greeted by the statue of Eros high above the fountain in the middle of the roundabout, but the fountain's streams had been turned off years ago for conservation of water because of the war. Yet that didn't seem to deter the crowds of people gathering around it: young soldiers on leave with laughing girls standing and walking around. Every car in the city appeared to be driving around the circle that led to many of the most popular thoroughfares of the city.

Oh, I knew what went on in Piccadilly Circus, of course. The Red Cross girls loved to gossip about the American and British soldiers' VD cases they treated often, courtesy of the "Picadilly Lillys" or the "Piccadilly Commandos" or any of the other half dozen names that the proliferation of prostitutes in that area had earned.

And what a proliferation it was! With almost every step I took, I passed a young girl dressed in ragged old clothing wearing too much rouge and grinning too provocatively to be there for only sightseeing. Yet I pitied them. So many of these women had lost husbands, fiancés, fathers, and brothers in this war that had now been raging for over five years here in Europe and were now left with no other alternative in order to survive.

I knew very well the things that desperation made one do.

Making sure I didn't meet any young soldier's eye lest I be mistaken for a "Piccadilly Princess," I looked down at the address I'd been given by Peter and made my way to the American Officer's Club just off of Coventry Street.

The club itself was a clean establishment with two American soldiers outside standing guard. Reminded of the German guards I'd passed every evening and every morning at the hospital in France, I shuddered.

These two soldiers, however, at no point asked me for my papers or to check my bag. They greeted me with a "Good afternoon, Miss. How can we help you?" and when I gave them my name and asked them for Major McCarthy, they assured me they'd have someone find him right away.

"Can you please let Major McCarthy know that I'll be waiting in the restaurant down the block?"

"Sure, Miss Swan," one of the soldiers replied. "We'll let him know."

The restaurant was small and crowded with more soldiers of all backgrounds: American, British, Australian; you name it. I took a seat at a table for two. While I waited, I ordered a _cuppa_, as they called it, which unfortunately was nothing more than a cup of watered-down tea, and I tried to pass the time by listening to all the different accents in which one language could be spoken. I remember the table of soldiers behind me was discussing the very recent disappearance of the popular band leader, Glenn Miller's plane over the English Channel as he'd been on his way to France to play for the troops, and they were theorizing on what could've happened to him.

Not five minutes after I'd taken a seat, an American officer walked through the door, cap in hand and eyes anxiously searching. Had I not recognized him instantly, he still would've been impossible to ignore with his impressive height and broad-shoulders that took up the entire doorframe.

"Mac," I mouthed.

With a shy smile, Mac made his way towards me. When I stood to greet him, he wrapped me in a bear hug.

"Bella, thank God," he breathed, "I've been going crazy for the past few weeks."

We pulled away and took one another in, and the sadness in his eyes made my heart clench painfully. He looked…older than when I'd seen him in Savannah the weekend when Edward had proposed to me in early 1942. Or perhaps tired would be a better description. Exhausted actually. Dark circles ringed his navy blue eyes, and a constant frown seemed to mar his forehead, even when he smiled.

We sat, and he immediately reached over and took my hand over the table. Yet there was nothing forward in the action. Had it been Peter, it would've meant something else, but with Mac, I hadn't one second of concern of it being perceived as anything more than friendship and comfort.

When he finally spoke, his speech came out stunted and wary. "I…I wanted to contact you, but…but I was going to wait until I was back in the States. I have…I have some things for you."

Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out an object wrapped in brown paper, laying it carefully, almost reverently, on the table. Releasing his hand, I unwrapped the paper.

_Edward Anthony Cullen. U.S. Eighth Air Force._

It was written over the cover in a long, thin right-slanted script that I recognized as well as my own.

"He kept a journal," Mac clarified unnecessarily.

"He always has," I smiled, tracing each wondrous line and loop.

Mac kept his eyes on the journal. "He didn't write in it every day. Some days…some days we can't do much more than drop over our bunks, shut our eyes and try to…" he trailed off, his constant frown deepening. "Anyway," he sighed, "his things have been sent home, but he asked me once, if something ever…he said I should give this to you personally."

My vision blurred before me. Since seeing him in the cockpit of the Liberator a few weeks ago, I'd held out hope that Mac had the answers I craved. That somehow, he knew something no one else did which would be the key to prove that these past few months were a nightmare from which I _would_ wake.

Through a haze of barely contained tears, I noticed a protrusion, a bump in the journal before me. Opening it with shaking hands, I gasped at the sight of an envelope with my name written on it.

"He asked me to deliver that personally as well, in case he…."

The sight of my name in Edward's handwriting on a letter I knew I was only ever supposed to receive in case of his death brought that ever-present river cresting right up to my neck. My lungs closed off and left me struggling for air. I shut my eyes tightly and dropped my head.

"Are you alright?" Mac asked, his voice laced with panic.

"Give me a minute," I managed to whisper as my fingernails dug into the rim of the table.

A couple of minutes later, I soundly closed the journal without allowing my eyes to stray to the letter I had no intention of opening or reading.

We both spoke at once then.

"Bella, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Mac, what can you tell me about Edward's last mission?"

Mac pressed his lips together, but I was beyond giving up. There was a sense of urgency rising within me, as if the river's current was growing stronger, as if time was running out, and I could no longer afford to be patient or polite – every lesson I'd learned at Miss Tudor's be damned.

"We'll get to what I'm doing here in a moment. But first, please tell me about Edward's last mission."

"Bella, Edward's missions were classified."

"When did he become a carpetbagger?"

Mac's brow lifted high into his forehead. "The fact that you know that much tells me you know more than was officially released." Reaching inside his jacket again, he now pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I shook my head and waited impatiently as he pulled out one for himself. "Let me guess," he smirked, tapping the cigarette against the table. "It was that Captain Vanderneck, who looked about ready to sock me one when I came looking for you, who filled you in."

I didn't answer. Instead, I locked my gaze on him, waiting.

"Never mind that," he finally huffed, sticking the cigarette in his mouth yet making no attempt to light it. "Edward was due to go home late last summer."

"Yes, I know that, of course – which is why I don't understand why he'd take on such a dangerous assignment so close to the end of his tour."

"Bella…" Mac hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He pulled the still unlit cigarette back out of his mouth and began playing with it, twisting it between his fingers. "Edward and I…we go back a bit, as you know," he smiled softly. "We trained together in the States, came here to England together. We were due to finish our first tour around the same time." He sighed. "I always planned to stay on through the end of the war, though. Therefore, before the end of the first tour, I informed my CO that I'd be interested in signing up for a second tour. Bella," he moved in closer, "more than anything, Edward wanted to return to you, but his brother, Masen-"

"Yes," I interrupted, "he wrote me of his guilt at leaving Masen behind, and yet it did no good because Masen was killed in Normandy."

"Yes, I know," Mac murmured sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. I heard about it the week after Edward…"

"So Edward didn't know?" I confirmed.

"No. Edward never knew." We were both quiet for a while.

Mac drew in a breath and straightened himself, clearing his throat. "Last spring, when we were getting closer to finishing the second tour, I went ahead and enlisted for a third, but Edward was determined to get back to you. Leaving his brother behind still ate at him, but…" Mac shook his head, leaving the thought unfinished. "Anyway, a couple of weeks before the D-Day invasion, we were approached by a CO, who offered us both a third tour flying under the Carpetbagger operation. We'd be promoted to Majors and given a reduced tour of duty of only twenty missions."

"Is that what it was," I asked, my voice shaking with barely repressed fury, "glory and another promotion?"

"No," Mac replied succinctly, his eyes boring into mine. "_He_ turned it down. I told you, he was determined to go. He said he was going to go home to you even if he had to-"

"to crawl back on his hands and knees," I murmured. "Then what _happened_?"

Emmett sat back against his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face before leaning in again.

"A few days after the D-Day mission, Edward developed an upper respiratory infection, which led to a double ear infection."

I frowned, confused. "He never told me-"

"It happens pretty often to us airmen," Mac assured me. "It's the altitude in which we fly. Unfortunately, that ear infection grounded Edward for a bit. By the time he was put back into commission, he was behind in his missions, and he realized he wouldn't be going home until much later than he'd planned. Again, he was approached about the Carpetbagger operation and promised that if he flew just a handful of missions, his tour would be complete."

"So he joined the Carpetbaggers so that he could come home to me _quicker_? God, this is all my fault." Horrified, I let the tears quietly fall.

"Don't!" Mac ordered. "Don't you dare blame yourself! If anyone is to blame…" He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and when he reopened them, the pain in their depths sent a shiver down my spine.

"Bella, I flew out on that last mission with him. I was there. We were…" he hesitated. "Aw, the hell with it. We'd been sent to the Vosges Mountains to drop supplies and men to help the Maquis fighting over there. The Vosges Mountains are-"

"I know what they are. They're a range of mountains in eastern France, near the border with Germany."

He nodded. "On our way out, we were met with enemy fire. Bella…" his voice shook painfully. "I _saw_ his plane go down. I _saw_ it crash into the mountains. I saw it…_explode_ and I…I couldn't do anything about it." He shut his eyes tightly and went silent while tremors racked his body. "It should've been me," he finally whispered. "Hell, I don't have no one – no family, no girl – waiting for me. It should've been me that went down."

I reached out and took his hand again. "Mac…don't say that. What's more, there's nothing you could've done, and we both know that."

He swallowed, his bottom lip quivering, and dropped his head. "We were informed by our contacts there that he and his navigator's bodies were found and interred."

An agonized whimper escaped me. The world spun.

"Was there any proof given?" I held my breath.

Mac's head shot up. "What?"

"Was there any proof given that it was Edward and his navigator who were found and buried? Were his tags returned?"

"No," he said slowly, as if confused by my question, "but we're in the middle of a war. It's not always easy to get that type of proof. We have to rely on the eyes we have on the ground."

"Mac, listen to me," I said, urgently wrapping both of my hands around one of his large ones. "I don't think that Edward is dead."

Mac stared at me, unblinking.

"While I was on my mission," I rushed, "my contact told me that sometimes the Maquis hide downed airmen for a long while, until it's safe to get them out. She also said that sometimes the Maquis are betrayed by their own people, that it's not always easy to know who to trust. If that were the case, perhaps you were given misinformation to mislead those Maquis who couldn't be trusted. God knows we give misinformation all the time."

"Bella," Mac sighed, "those mountains…that _explosion_…it would've taken a _miracle_ for him to survive that. Besides, the Vosges Mountains are on the border with both Germany and Switzerland. Airmen who do survive a crash and get out usually make it by way of Switzerland, but it's not easy. Switzerland is neutral, but all the borders are patrolled by the Germans. The truth is…it's been almost five months. If Edward would've found his way to Switzerland, he would've already returned."

I shook my head in denial. "Then something happened. Something's kept him trapped in those mountains, unable to cross into Switzerland."

"Because those mountains border Germany, some of the most intense fighting in this war is still happening there or near there. The mountains are near the Colmar Pocket, where the Germans are entrenched in Central Alsace even though the Allies have liberated southern and northern Alsace and Lorraine to the east.

"Mac…you said…there are missions into the mountains...?"

"Yes," he responded, eyeing me warily, "for supplies and…informants carrying messages." I held his gaze meaningfully, and it only took a few seconds for him to understand. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't decide who goes on missions, Bella," he hissed through his teeth. "I only transport them!"

"Perhaps know someone - someone you can speak with so that I can be assigned the next mission into the Vosges?"

He glared at me, nostrils flaring, and I waited for him to tell me what everyone else had been telling me for months now: that I had to face reality, that the proof that Edward was dead was stacked against my irrational belief that he was alive. Yet…yet despite what he'd just told me, my heart was still beating so furiously, so quickly…so faithfully.

"Bella," Mac hissed, "I promised Edward that if something ever happened to him, I'd look after you! This would completely go against that promise!"

"Yes, but Edward is NOT dead!" I gritted through my teeth. "Therefore, there's no need for that promise! I _have_ to find him!"

Mac sat back against his seat, stunned. "My God, _that's_ why you're here? _That's_ why you're risking your life?"

I stared defiantly at him across the table while he scrubbed a hand down his face before leaning in close once more.

"Bella, do you really think this is what Edward would've wanted for you?"

"It's the only way I can find him."

"How, by putting your own life in danger? What good would it do for him to come back if you've gone and gotten yourself killed?"

The entire time he spoke, I shook my head. "Mac, the past few days have been the most terrifying of my life, but at the same time…I don't think I truly understood back home, even while I volunteered in the hospital and ran the bond drives and collection drives. But now…now I know why you're here…why Edward is here. There was a train," I said shakily, bile rising to my throat, "and…and there were _people_…"

"Bella," he said softly, imploringly, "that's why this is no place for you."

"Why? Because I'm a woman? How many women have you dropped into France in your Liberator?"

"That's different."

"No. It's not," I insisted. "You have no idea what I saw those women do in La Rochelle. How they fight back and how they survive in the hell they call their world! So yes, I'll look for Edward because my heart won't allow me to accept that he's dead, but at the same time, I'll help those men and women in whatever small, meager and almost insignificant way that I can. Now, you can help me," I said in a strangled whisper, "or you can just sit by, but I'm doing this one way or the other."

"Dear God," he moaned quietly, crushing his long-forgotten cigarette inside his fist, "this is complete madness."

"Mac, with or without you're help, I'm-"

"Alright, _alright!_" he snarled, glaring at me in disbelief. He covered his mouth with his large palm, rubbing it back and forth roughly, his eyes intently on me. "Look, how about I check into what you said, about the possible traitors within the Maquis? Maybe I can find out something and see if there was really some foul play going on down there."

"Okay," I breathed hopefully. "Okay, and how about getting me to those mountains?"

"Christ, Bella, let's start with this first, okay? Maybe if we find out something here, it won't be necessary to drop you inside those mountains."

"Alright," I swallowed, not entirely convinced, "but what should I do in the meantime?"

"Whatever you've been doing in between missions. I'm sure Captain Vanderneck will have plenty of suggestions for you," he smirked.

Again, I ignored his insinuations. With an apologetic grin, he changed the subject. "Now tell me how you've been doing. Tell me what's been going on."

For the next couple of hours, we sipped on the Brits' last remaining stock of weak tea while I filled him in on how I'd spent my time since he and Edward had left for England. In turn, he told me stories of him and Edward that made me smile and almost forget, for a short while, that Edward wasn't there. I got the feeling that for this young man, close relationships were rare, and Edward was possibly his best friend in the whole world.

He escorted me back to OSS headquarters in a black cab, and we parted with a promise from him that he'd be in touch again as soon as he had any information one way or the other, hopefully within a few days.

It turned out to be longer than that.

OOOOOOOOOO

We woke to news that the Allies' hopes for a quick end to the war had been further crushed by Germany's attempt to break through the densely forested region of the Ardennes in France and Belgium.

The attack caught the Allied forces completely off guard, and the storms and fog in the heavily wooded Ardennes prevented Allied air forces from providing air support. The ground troops were left to dig into icy foxholes and try to wait it out.

I received a phone call from Mac during that period, assuring me that he hadn't forgotten our conversation, but everyone's efforts were currently on helping our boys in the Ardennes.

Meanwhile, I did what I could from London, assisting the Red Cross with the casualties brought into London from what was officially known as the Ardennes Counteroffensive, but what most were calling "The Battle of the Bulge" because of the bulge in the Allied lines that had been created by the German offensive. Peter was kept extremely busy trying to intercept the German "Ultra" codes with which the Germans communicated due to his German-speaking abilities.

As for Edward's journal and his…letter to me, I'd tucked them both inside a drawer when I'd returned from meeting with Mac. And though I wouldn't throw it out because it was something of Edward's, neither did I plan to _ever_ read that letter – and I couldn't get myself to read the journal, not just yet.

On December 23, the skies finally cleared and Mac, along with his fellow airmen attacked the German offensive at the Ardennes in full force, launching bombing raids on German supply points as well as attacking German troops on the roads. They also dropped much needed supplies such as medicine, food, blankets, and ammunition to ground troops.

Christmas Day and Boxing Day came and went.

Two days before New Year's Eve, I finally received word from Mac to meet him at the same restaurant in Piccadilly Circus where we'd first met a couple of weeks earlier, and I trembled in anticipation.

The ever-present frown marring his forehead was more pronounced than it had been a couple of weeks earlier, though he smiled tiredly at me. And even though I was desperate to get to the purpose of our meeting, I ached for him and for the toll that this war had taken on this once lighthearted young man.

"Are you okay?" I asked, gently touching his hand.

He shrugged, sighing deeply before bringing his cup to his mouth and pulling it away with a grimace.

"This ain't nothing but dirty water."

"It's all they have left at this point.'

"Well, we've got fresh coffee by the boxes back at base." He scowled and set down his cracked mug. "I'll just wait 'til I get back."

"I guess it's been a hard couple of weeks."

He snorted. "You know, those fuckers – shit, pardon me."

"That's okay, go on," I prompted.

"Those…bastards sent almost a quarter of a million troops into that forest, behind about 600 panzers. Hitler's last ditch effort to turn the tides of this here war cuz he still don't get, does he? But he almost did it too!" he sneered. I could tell he wasn't really looking for an answer, just an ear to allow him to unburden himself. So I provided it. "Caught us by complete surprise. Our boys were thinly spread out and undersupplied, and those fuckers managed to push them back about forty miles. And God," he raked a hand through his hair, "we were desperate to send in reinforcements, supplies, fucking boots and coats!" he seethed. "Cuz the fucking storms came out of nowhere as well! But the god damn fogs wouldn't clear, and they wouldn't give us the go ahead! It was FUBAR! Complete and total FUBAR I'm telling you!"

"But you were finally able to get in." I said, seeing he was getting worked up.

He nodded stiffly. "It's why I hadn't been able to get back to you until now," he said, apology now coloring his tone.

"No, that's fine. Of course I understand," I reassured him. "This attack caught everyone off guard. Alice Cullen wrote me that her leave was cut short due to the siege at Bastogne. She had to rush back to the front lines to help with the large influx of casualties due to both the battle _and_ the weather. It's been…a nightmare, yes, but…Mac, were you able to find out anything?"

He met my gaze and drew in a deep breath. When he spoke, it was with that stuttering, jumpy speech I'd noticed in our past couple of meetings that would overtake him when he was uneasy.

"Yes, I…I made some inquiries, Bella. It…it turns out that you were right. A few weeks ago, the FFI captured a double-agent within the Maquis, who was hiding out in Paris. Seems this fucker – sorry – was working with the Gestapo, infiltrating the escape networks used to get Allied airmen lost in France back to England. I don't know the details, but…it was an escape network involving the Vosges mountain area, and it's believed that he's led many, possibly hundreds of airmen into Gestapo hands under the rouse that he'd help get them to England."

"Oh my God," I choked, pressing my hand to my mouth.

Mac nodded solemnly. "Fucking asshole – sorry. Like I said, I don't know many of the details, but they've been holding him at FFI Headquarters in Paris for the past couple of weeks. I'm actually surprised they haven't executed him yet. The FFI has no patience for traitors."

My blood raced within my veins, and my heart felt about ready to implode while my entire body was racked with tremors.

"How can we find out more?"

Mac shrugged. "Other than going to Paris, I know no other way. I've gotten everything I can from my superiors. They're waiting to get more details themselves, but Bella…" he took my hand over the table. "Jesus you're shaking," he murmured. "Bella, this doesn't change anyone's position on what happened to Edward."

Other than arguing with him, I said instead, "I need to speak to that man, Mac. I need to find out more."

"The FFI won't allow you near him. Despite the things you've done, you're only considered a civilian."

"But I know someone who can get inside to see him."

Mac sat back against his seat and studied me. "Well, he does want you," he said simply, "that's plain enough to see."

"He's just a friend, and he knows it."

His eyes held mine dubiously, then he just sighed.

"Mac," I hesitated, "I know I've already asked you for enough, but is there any way you can find out what's been going on with my contact in La Rochelle? Her name is Leah Laurent. I know that her city is still under siege, and I just want to make sure she's okay."

Mac nodded. "I'll see what I can find out."

I reached out and cupped his cheek. "I see why Edward's always considered you such a good friend."

He gazed at me sadly and smiled.

OOOOOOOOOO

It took surprisingly little effort to convince Peter to accompany me to Paris. I explained the situation to him, and he simply asked me to give him forty-eight hours to arrange everything.

And so in early January, we flew a transport into Paris through a route which had been cleared by the RAF and the Eighth Air Force and was now considered "friendly" skies – though there was always the potential for danger.

Once again, I found myself in a city I hadn't seen since I was a little girl. As the car transported us to the French Forces of the Interior's headquarters, I gazed out at the city whose physical beauty had been little diminished by over four years of occupation. Though there had been fighting in the streets of Paris upon the German retreat back in August, the occupying army had disobeyed Hitler's direct order to leave the city "lying in complete debris." In that respect, at least, it had fared better than most large cities in Europe – including London. Most of its historic landmarks remained intact: its Gothic _Notre Dame Cathedral_ as well as the _Dôme des Invalides_, the Baroque church where Napolean was interred, and so many of its ancient architectures remained intact.

As we arrived at FFI headquarters and I stepped out of the car, my eyes immediately rose to the Eifel Tower, which was visible over Paris's cream-grey stone balconied structures and tree-lined avenues.

There was a café at the corner, as in most corners of Paris. Peter led me out of the car and tipped his chin in the café's direction.

"You'll have to wait there, Isabella. They won't allow you in."

I hesitated, my eyes trailing from the café to him.

"We can stand here and argue about it, or you can go wait inside the café, so we can get this done with sooner."

"Fine," I nodded reluctantly. "But Peter, please get as much information as you can."

"Isabella," he replied impatiently, "I plan to. Believe me, I'm as anxious as you are to get you all your answers."

And though I knew his reasons and my reasons for getting answers were at total odds, I didn't argue.

Paris also seemed to be faring better than London food-wise. I snacked on a delicate croissant and sipped a flavorful tea as I waited, my eyes scanning the rest of the patrons, most laughing and seeming…relieved after such a long occupation. When I grew restless, my fingers instinctively grazed Edward's journal, the one I hadn't yet read, tucked within my purse. I wasn't sure why I carried it with me. I felt the bump of the letter within the last journal, and swallowing, I pulled away my hand.

I sat there for three hours before Peter finally arrived.

He appeared both wary and spent as he sat across from me, his cap on the table between us.

"What did you find out?" I questioned immediately.

"Isabella…"

"Peter, damn it, tell me!" I hissed.

His eyes flared. "Alright," he gritted, and then everything rushed out. "He's been questioned thoroughly over the past couple of weeks, in ways that would break anyone, ways he most likely deserves," he scowled. "He's given up names of a couple of other traitors as well as the tags of most of the airmen he betrayed to the Gestapo. I saw the tags. Edward's tags weren't among them. He also gave a list of the airman's names that he betrayed. Edward's name wasn't among them." He said this last part slowly and emphatically.

"That's good," I breathed quickly, my heart racing. "It means that Edward is still out there somewhere and-"

"Damn it, Bella!" Peter yelled, causing me to jump and causing a few of the café's patrons to glance our way. He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. When he reopened them, he moved in closer and whispered, "What it means is that Edward's plane went down, and he died, and he's gone."

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"_Yes_," he insisted, his voice shaking yet his demeanor much calmer than before. He moved his cap aside and took my hand, knitting our fingers over the table and…and it felt so different from when Mac took my hand.

"Yes, Bella. Darling…it's time you accepted it. We came to England. You went to La Rochelle. We came to Paris. He's been gone for almost six months. It's time, Bella."

"_No_," I repeated more forcefully, my hand frozen within his. "My heart…my heart doesn't feel it. My heart doesn't feel him…gone."

"That's because you won't allow your heart to feel him gone. Because you refuse to allow anyone else _in_."

I swallowed thickly. "You're hoping for something I can never give you. You're hoping for me to give up, to betray my heart, to believe something I can't accept, and to love you in a way I never can! I don't _want_ you, Peter! When will you understand that?" I spit scornfully, trying to pull away my hand.

But he held on tightly. "Is that what you plan to do, Bella, to pull away from everyone for the rest of your life? To pull away from all those who care for you: Alice, the rest of the Cullens, your father, your stepfather…me? You just want to shut out everyone who cares for you while you hold on to the one person you can't have? How far do you plan to take this?"

I gathered all my strength and forcefully jerked my hand from his. "I told you; I'll take it as far as I have to!"

"As far as you have to until what? Until you end up being killed yourself? Is that what you're trying to do, Bella?"

"No!" I yelled, tears streaking my face.

"Are you sure? Are you sure that this isn't just a way to join him without pulling the trigger yourself?"

"Fuck you, Peter!" I yelled, jumping to my feet. "Fuck you! You know nothing about me!"

"I know you, Bella," he said with a patience that infuriated me all the more. "As much as you may hate to admit it, I do know you. He's gone, Bella. Accept it," he said quietly. "Accept it. He's gone."

"You _don't_ know me," I repeated and ran out of the café.

OOOOOOOOOO

I made my way to the hotel where we were to stay, though my head spun and the river…the river kept rising. When I entered the lobby and my eyes immediately spotted Mac's tall, striking form, I rushed to him.

"Mac, thank God you're here," I breathed, taking a seat on the King Louis XIV sofa next to him. "Peter refuses to help me any longer," I revealed. "Have you found out anything else about my flying into the Vosges?"

He blinked slowly and painfully, the frown lines deep and intense. "Bella, a couple of days ago, the Germans began a surprise offensive in Alsace just northeast of the mountains."

"I know," I nodded breathlessly. "I read it in the papers. Does OSS need someone to go in and deliver some sort of message or supplies? I'm ready."

"Jesus," he moaned, raking a hand through his hair. "Are you punishing him? Is that what this is?"

"What?" I spit.

He shook his head. "Isabella, you're going home to New York. I've spoken to OSS, and they've agreed."

"You mean you spoke to Peter behind my back!" I accused, seething.

He held my gaze, his forehead so creased that his brows almost met his hairline. "Bella, at some point, you have to give up."

"No, I don't!" I sobbed quietly.

Mac pulled me into his arms. "Bella, sweetie, he would've come back to you already. He would've never stayed away from you this long. You've risked your life enough."

I pulled angrily away from him. "You and Edward risk your lives all the time! I must be missing something!" I pleaded desperately. "Leah told me that sometimes when the airmen are betrayed by the resistance, their tags are taken from them, and there's no way for them to prove who they are! Maybe that's what happened to Edward. Maybe he's a POW, but there's no way for him to prove who he is! Leah also told me-"

"Bella," he inhaled sharply. "Bella, Leah is dead. She was killed by the Gestapo two weeks after you returned from La Rochelle. Now are you going to tell me that she's not dead either?" His nostrils flared with emotion.

My sobs racked my body while the world continued spinning all around me. "That would've been right after her birthday. She didn't…she never even got to fall in love," I whispered through my tears.

"This war is FUBAR to the max, Bella, fucked up beyond _all_ recognition," Mac said in a strangled voice. "And that's just how it is, honey. Honor her memory. Honor your friend, Jacob. Honor Masen. Honor Edward, Bella, and what he would've wanted for you. He wanted a better world for you, Bella – a better life. Don't allow him to have died in vain. Go back to the U.S. Live your life to the fullest for him if for no one else."

OOOOOOOOOO

On January 7, 1945, the Germans, in one of their last-ditch efforts to turn the tides of the war, broke out of the "Colmar Pocket" in Alsace and headed east to attempt a retake of the city of Strasbourg.

And I left Paris, France, accompanied by Captain Peter Vanderneck and Major Emmett "Mac" McCarthy, of the U.S. Air Force.

Because of the battles raging and because the German Luftwaffe had just launched an air offensive against Allied air bases in Belgium and Holland in what would turn out to be its last major offensive of the war, it was determined that it would be safer to return to England via army transport to Normandy rather than an air transport.

From England, I was to make my way to Portugal, where I was to make my way carefully back to the U.S.

We left Paris early in the morning.

Dull and empty inside, I gazed out of the window of the covered jeep, listlessly watching thousands of years of architecture yet far from appreciating any of it as I tried to figure out a way to keep myself in Europe.

Mac drove the jeep, which was part of a small caravan of troops heading to Normandy either on leave to England or making their way home, like me.

Peter sat silently next to me.

"Once we get back to London," he eventually spoke, "I'll get you on your transport to Portugal, but I'm staying behind, Bella."

I turned lethargically to Peter. "How come?"

"There's still much to be done. Germany is falling, but they're still fighting. They've got offensives going in Alsace and the Ardennes, and we've got to figure out what they're doing and what they're planning and make sure that our Allies are well-supplied." He sighed heavily. "There's still a way to go before it's officially over."

"Perhaps if I stayed," I whispered, "I could-"

"You're not staying, Bella," Mac spoke up from the front.

My eyes flashed to Mac. He appeared engrossed in his drive, but he was clearly aware of everything going on.

"Peter," I murmured, "I'm truly sorry about the way I've been with you. You haven't deserved it. Well, perhaps some of it."

"Perhaps some of it," he snorted. "Bella…do you remember what I told you back in New York? That I would wait until you were ready to accept?"

"Peter, just because I'm being forced home doesn't mean that I believe that Edward's…that I believe that-"

"I know. I know. But I just want you to know that although I'll be here, it doesn't mean I've forgotten," he breathed, holding my gaze. "Hopefully…hopefully by the time I go home…by the time this war is over…you'll be ready."

Again, I looked towards Mac. This time, his head was tilted sideways, ear to the back.

"Peter," I shook my head, dropping it to the space between us. "Peter…"

He took my hand in his and moved closer, dipping his head and forcing me to meet his blue, blue eyes.

"Bella, you still need time. Alright, I understand that. He's only been gone for six months. But…when I return, perhaps…you'll allow me to be there for you." His smile held so much hope, it made my heart clench painfully. I opened my mouth to respond, but Mac suddenly cleared his throat.

"I..uh…" he tipped his chin to the windshield, where I noticed we'd come to a stop just outside of Paris's city limits, parallel to a couple of large green army trucks heading in the opposite direction. "I'm going to go see why we've stopped." He stepped out of the jeep.

Peter continued. "Isabella, I'm arrogant, and I'm spoiled, but I do know that you'll never love me as you loved…as you love him, and I accept that"

"Peter,"

"because despite that fact, I know that if you just give me a chance, I _can_ make you happy." A tear slid down my cheek. "Just picture it, Bella," he persisted. "For one minute, open your heart and allow yourself to picture it."

"_No_," I mouthed.

"_Yes_," he insisted. "We can have a _life_, Bella. We can have a _family_, a home of our own wherever you want: in New York City or in the wilds of Washington. We can have children…a little girl with your dark hair and my blue eyes. A tall, handsome boy with my Aryan features," he grinned wryly. "We could have it all, Bella – if you'll just allow it to happen."

He gazed at me with so much open longing, so much belief in the future he painted that for one split second, I…I saw it in my mind's eye.

A home with an evergreen of our own…a pretty little blond girl running around and laughing…

But in the next fraction of a second, the evergreen withered away…and the little girl…she floated off like sand in the wind.

And I shook my head, gently pulling away my hand.

"I'm sorry, Peter, I really am, but-"

There was a sudden knock on the jeep's back door that startled me. One of the enlisted men traveling with us stuck in his head, saluting Peter.

"Captain, Major McCarthy would like you to meet him up front," he said urgently.

Peter huffed, pursing his lips. "I'm coming," he said grudgingly.

I watched him walk a few yards down to where Mac stood with a couple of other soldiers from the unit we'd intercepted. They were having what looked from my view to be an animated discussion. When I saw one of the soldiers disappear into the first truck and escort out two German officers – prisoners by the way they stood – my brow furrowed.

Peter began talking to one of them. The German responded excitedly. Peter said something in return, and the German raised his voice so loud that I could hear it from where I was; though, I couldn't understand any of it.

Then Peter's eyes grew wide, and he turned them towards me.

I was out of that jeep running towards them before I realized that my legs were moving.

As I rushed over, I watched Mac run to the other truck in the unit and begin talking with the officer that had stepped out.

"What?" I asked Peter breathlessly, "what is it?"

Peter's chest heaved as he acknowledged the German POWs before us.

"They're Luftwaffe pilots."

Beyond us, I could hear Mac yelling now. And as I tried to pay attention to what was going on there, one of the POWs spoke again anxiously in his native tongue.

"What's he saying?" I breathed quickly.

"They were captured just beyond Nancy," Peter translated, "attempting to transport a couple of French Resistance prisoners into Germany."

"Nein! Nein!" the POW cried.

"No!" Peter corrected. He met my eyes. "They were taking them _out_ of Germany!"

My head whipped over to Mac, who was arguing with the officers who, from his stripes, was a General.

"General, I respectfully ask to be allowed into that truck!"

"Major, first you'll have to tell me what this is all about!"

The POW kept talking.

"Bella," Peter said in a rush, "he says they're not French Resistance. He says he wasn't trying to get them into Germany, but he was getting them out, out of respect because they're _pilots_."

I was already running towards the truck.

"Hold her back!" the General commanded when I tried to rush past him. A couple of officers at his side grabbed me and caged me carefully yet firmly in between them.

"What is all this?" he bellowed. "Who is this woman?"

"Please!" I begged. "Please let me through!"

"Sir, she's been looking for a pilot!" Mac blurted desperately. "A downed pilot!"

"These are not pilots!" the General roared. "They're resistance fighters! We're taking them into Paris to be treated because we don't have a medic corps with us! And we're taking the POWs to-"

"Oh God, let me through!" I implored, fighting to free myself.

"Let go of her, and let her through!" Peter yelled from behind me.

"Hold her back!" the General reiterated.

"Those prisoners just told me that the men they had with them are gravely ill American pilots they were trying to free!"

A strangled sound escaped me as I struggled with all my might against the two soldiers holding me.

"Wait, wait, wait!" the General commanded over all the bedlam. "This might be some sort of trick!"

"Damn it, Sir, just let her see them!" Mac roared.

"I don't want a young lady around such things without-"

"Aw hell, with all due respect, Sir, she's seen more shit in three months than most men see in a lifetime!"

"This is fucking ridiculous, Sir!"

In all the confusion, one of the soldiers holding me jumped onto the back of the truck. The other soldier took both of my arms and caged me in while the one on the truck urgently called out,

"What does your pilot look like?"

While everyone else continued arguing, I responded immediately.

"He's tall with reddish brown hair and green eyes!"

The soldier rushed into the burlap-covered back of the truck.

"They're unconscious," he called out, "and their heads are shaved!"

I threw my head up to the sky, to the gloriously cloudy sky high above us and opened my mouth to release the scream that had been building since the moment I'd walked into the Cullen's house almost six months ago and been told about two telegrams.

But before the sound could work its way up my throat and expel itself like the agonized cry of a woodland nymph, a memory flashed before me:

_We were children. Edward, Sandy and I were in the meadow by the river, and the skies were as gray as today. And on that nondescript, summer afternoon of our childhood, Edward had taken it upon himself to teach Sandy to sit and stay. As I approached him to see exactly what he was doing, I studied his profile, that perfect profile with a strong forehead and a straight nose, and soft lips and a square jaw…underneath which lay a perfectly round-_

"A birthmark!" I shrieked. "He has a birthmark under his jaw, on the left side!"

There are moments in life where time no longer moves in the even, equal measurement in which we've been taught it transpires. Or should I say, of course it does. There's no such thing as time stopping, as the world pausing in its revolution, yet in our minds, those particular seconds become hours; moments become lifetimes. A thousand things happen in the span of a few breaths.

In those few breaths, the General said something and the soldier keeping me captive finally released me, time in which Mac spun around and lifted me off the ground, ready to hoist me onto the truck - just as the soldier who'd first climbed on to the truck howled, "Let her in!" and stepped out and…

…and grinned at me.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Two songs for the AoI Playlist this chapter: **

_**I'll Be Home for Christmas**_** (1943) by Bing Crosby**

_**Miracles**_** (2014) by Coldplay (No, it's not a song from that time period, but I think it's PERFECT here. Give it a listen if you haven't heard it.) :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page. **

**Will update agains as soon as possible! **


	64. Chapter 63 - Open Your Eyes

**A/N: ***Warning: This chapter may be difficult to read, but the topic it touches on was unfortunately, a true part of the war.**

**This chapter was supposed to be part of a longer chapter (yes, my chapters have become PRETTY long), but since so many of you simply needed something "more" after the last chapter, I'm posting this bit, and the rest will post next week hopefully. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 63 – Open Your Eyes**

_"I proposed to her tonight - got down on one knee and everything and actually proposed._

_Jesus, I'm rushing straight to that part, but I've got to write down some other things first, like how beautiful she looked tonight…today. Because if I ever forget even one small detail of today, it'll be a god damn sin. Today was…well it was perfection is what it was - from the moment I got off of that bus in Savannah, walked into that ballroom, and spotted her folding napkins for tonight's USO dance, all the way to the very end of our night together. _

_Here's how it happened:_

_She had her back to me when I walked into that ballroom, talking French with one of the hotel maids. _

_Wait, have I ever told her how much I love to hear her talk French? I'm not really sure..."_

I set the journal on my lap and anxiously swept my gaze to the thin, haggard man lying on the hospital bed before me, hooked up to an IV line and painkillers and antibiotics and…and so far from the strong man I'd last seen at a Seattle train station two-and-a-half years ago that he was almost unrecognizable.

"No," I whispered, reaching out and wrapping my hand around one of his, trying not to flinch at how bony and hot it felt. "You've never told me how much you enjoy hearing me talk French."

Other than the heaving of his chest as his sick lungs struggled to expand and contract, he remained perfectly still, his gaunt frame completely immobile and unresponsive under the white bed sheet. He gave no indication that he heard me, that he had any idea that I was with him…that he had any idea who I was.

"Edward," I murmured, stroking his face, "Edward, it's me, my love: Bella. I'm here. Look at me. I'm here. Open your eyes, and _look at me_," I pleaded quietly.

He made no response. He'd made no sort of response since we'd found him twenty-four hours ago. I stood up and adjusted his pillow and blanket, and as I sat back down, I took a deep uneven breath of my own and returned to the journal.

_"When we were younger, I used to make excuses, ask her to translate nonsense just to hear her talk in French and watch her pretty pink mouth move around the strange words. I didn't understand so much why everything she did fascinated me, being the stupid kid that I was, but it did. _

_I don't think I've ever really confessed that._

_Anyway, my mind's wandering. I've been lightheaded since I got back to the hotel. That's probably due to how we celebrated after she agreed to marry me._

_But there I go getting ahead of myself again._

_Boy, she looked beautiful. Her hair…God, her hair is pure silk. She keeps it long and wavy despite the way all the other girls tend to cut it short or to their shoulders. Her golden eyes still manage to put me in a trance whenever I dare look too deeply into them, just like they did that first time in the woods when I thought she was a drowning nymph. Anyway, she's just…gorgeous is what she is, and if she knew how often I daydream of making love to her, she'd think me a horrible cad…probably wouldn't have said yes to me tonight."_

I snorted and trained my eyes on him again. "Edward, I would've _never_ thought you a cad," I assured him, "and I will _always_ say yes. You know that, don't you?"

He made no sound, no movement.

"Open your eyes, my love," I begged on a whispered breath. "Please, open your eyes."

After a couple of minutes of waiting, I resumed my reading.

_"We walked around Savannah some, but if you ask me what we saw, that I can't recall. I see streets and buildings all the time. I haven't seen HER in four months, so it was on HER that I kept my eyes. We talked about her school, the war, and my training. She's smart too. I know I've said this before, but she is, and I don't know if I deserve her. She has opinions and ideas, and she shares them all with me. I share with her too because it's so easy to talk to her. I can tell her how worried I am about Masen…"_

I swallowed thickly, trying to keep my voice from shaking,

"…_and how stupid I think Alice is for what she's doing, purposely planning on putting herself in danger. Why would a woman with a man at home who loves her ever do that? Bella feels responsible for Alice's decision somehow. Well, I told her that was just plain ridiculous, but then…this god damn war makes every discussion so difficult, but our time together was too short to concentrate on thorny subjects for too long._

_We went back to her hotel then, and I picked a rose from the garden, took out the thorns and slid it through her soft hair. I don't think she really understood what I was trying to say. It's my own fault; I know. My tongue can't manage to say what it means around her. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to give her a life without thorns - this world without war. But then she started talking about my uniform, and I got distracted._

_See, she likes me in uniform; she said so. I plan to keep that in mind."_

This time, I couldn't help letting out a small chuckle. "Yes, I have always liked you in your uniform, and…" I sobered, "no, I don't think I did understand what you meant with that rose. Tell me what-"

Just then, the doctor walked in. I moved out of the way and allowed him room to do his job, unable to suppress a shudder of agony when the doctor pulled down Edward's sheet, and I could count every single rib on his ribcage.

Finding him…finding Edward had been a miracle. There was no other explanation. Regardless of the thorns accompanying that miracle, we'd get through this. I'd be strong enough for the both of us until he recovered his own strength.

Forcing my legs to support me, I turned to the bowl of ice water behind us and wet the rag I'd been using to keep Edward's head cool, squeezing out the excess before placing it back on his forehead and gently caressing his head.

"Miss Swan," the doctor, a Captain Bryan said, "You should really go get some rest."

As merely Edward's fiancée, I knew I had very few rights here. Yet in another stroke of rare luck, Doctor Bryan was a kind young doctor in about his early thirties, with a wife and a daughter back home in Spokane, who'd bonded with me over our mutual love of Washington. He not only kept me constantly apprised of Edward's every breath, he'd allowed me to help and to stay by Edward's side since the moment we'd arrived.

"Not yet," I replied, keeping my eyes on Edward, stroking the top of his head where I could just begin to feel his hair growing back.

"Miss Swan," he sighed, "Captain Cullen is receiving internal fluids and antibiotics, and other than that, there's not much more we can do at this point. As we've discussed, the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be crucial, but it'll do no good for you to get sick as well. His condition is highly contagious, and you need rest to keep up your own immunity."

Edward and the other airman he'd been traveling with had received a room of their own in the ward that the U.S. Army had set up inside a French general hospital just outside of Paris. The other airman, whom Mac confirmed was **not** Edward's navigator, had died overnight.

"I appreciate your concern, Doctor. I'm taking all precautions, but I won't leave his side – not now."

He sighed heavily. "Very well, Miss Swan."

Once he and the nurse vacated the room, I took up my vigil next to Edward, gazing at him, silently pleading for his eyes to open.

He had dysentery, pneumonia, fractured ribs, and a badly dislocated shoulder, which hadn't been reset properly. He'd been beaten – on more than one occasion based on the different grades of bruising on his body. And based on what he'd weighed before his plane had gone down, Edward had lost about fifty pounds. His hair had been shaved off and various gashes and bruises were visible on his scalp. There was no way to tell how long he'd been unconscious, but the Luftwaffe Officers, who'd transported him across the French border, confirmed that he and the other airman had been that way since they'd picked them up. Picked them up from _where_ exactly, with all the confusion, I still wasn't sure, but I had…I had a sickening suspicion floating around in the pit of my stomach.

So while I waited for him to wake - to come back to me, to finally, _finally_ come back to me the way he'd promised on that night so long ago, I sat with him and took care of him, read to him. And I waited.

"Open your eyes, my love. I'm here. I'll always be here. I'll always be your true and loyal heart."

I kept reading.

_"At the USO dance, I introduced her to Mac and a couple of the other fellows who came down with us from the base. You should've seen that Cadet McCarthy ogling my girl. He's lucky I didn't punch him in the eyes right then and there. _

_Suppose I can't blame him. She's a woodland nymph if I ever did imagine one: in a silky black dress that showed off her slim waist and perfect curves despite how small she is, and her hair done up in a way I'd never seen it before. _

_I'm telling you, somebody must be smiling down on me…smiling down indeed to keep her from being stolen away from me while I'm so far away from her."_

I set down the journal and looked at him. "Edward, no one has ever stood a chance at stealing me away, no matter how far apart we've been."

OOOOOOOOOO

In the early hours of the next morning, I was adjusting Edward's pillow and sheet, sponging his forehead and his chest to try to keep down the fever. The doctor and nurses came and went periodically, but I took care of his basic necessities. When I turned around, Peter stood by the door.

Both he and Mac had begrudgingly left late that first evening with the Army unit, who'd first found the Luftwaffe officers, to find out as much as possible about what exactly had happened.

Peter looked at me warily. "How's he doing?"

I turned back to Edward, caressing his face smoothly. "He'll be fine," I murmured. "He'll be just fine."

Peter was quiet for a while.

"We've…found out some information. If you're interested, we can step outside."

"No, I don't…let's just talk on the balcony," I suggested, unwilling to wander too far from Edward.

I grabbed my coat, and we stepped out on the balcony connected to the room, where the lights of the city were dimmed by necessity, and the January chill seeped into my bones. I wrapped my coat tightly around me.

"Where's Mac?" I asked.

"He's working with the War Department to get ahold of Alice Cullen. I've sent a telegram to Philip and the Cullens, as you requested, letting them know that Edward is alive."

"Thanks so much, Peter," I breathed, reaching out and squeezing his arm. Doctor Bryan had suggested holding off on the telegrams, but I refused to treat Edward's return as something temporary. Though he hadn't necessarily voiced his opinion, I knew Peter agreed with the Doctor.

Peter nodded. "Without his tags, it's going to take some time to identify the other airman – unless Edward wakes up and…Jesus, you look exhausted, Isabella. Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"I'm fine, Peter. Tell me what you've found out."

He hesitated. "It's…a difficult history. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes," I responded resolutely. "I need to know what he's been through."

"Very well," he exhaled, his hands twisting around the cap he held pressed against his stomach. "We only know what the Luftwaffe officers were able to tell us. The rest…we'll have to wait until he wakes." There was a tone of dubiousness in his voice when he referred to Edward's waking that made me want to scream.

"Just tell me what you do know," I said, too tired to continue arguing with Peter.

"Bella…Edward…he was being held in a camp in Germany."

"One of the POW camps?"

"No." He shook his head slowly. "Apparently, it was…one of the camps the Russians have been finding since late summer."

Of course, I knew immediately what type of camp he was referring to. The Soviets had first come across one of these so called "labor camps" in Poland back in July. The stories…well, the stories of the atrocities they'd found were almost too horrific to be believed. That human beings could commit such inhumane evil against other human beings…it was almost inconceivable.

Except…I'd seen that train crossing La Rochelle. I'd seen…wide, frightened eyes staring from between the cattle cars.

I'd seen the bruises on Edward. The shaved head.

I turned around and vomited over my own feet.

"Jesus," Peter breathed. He swiftly walked into the room, and when he returned, he held out a clean towel to me, which I used to wipe my mouth while he knelt and cleaned my shoes with another towel. My tears fell silently.

When he stood, he pulled me against him, and I let him; otherwise, my legs would've surely given out.

"How the hell did he end up there?" I cried quietly. "He's an American airman, for God's sakes!" I seethed, pulling away angrily. "Don't they have prisons specifically for airmen?"

"We're not sure how he ended up there," Peter frowned, paler than I'd ever seen him. "The good thing, if you can call it that, is it doesn't seem as if he was in there for very long - perhaps a month. We'll have to wait for him to wake for the rest, but from what the Luftwaffe Officers tell us, they came upon a group of about a hundred airmen late last month when the officers were visiting a couple of their comrades at one of these camps near Weimar. One of the airmen reportedly approached them, speaking German-"

"Not Edward," I shook my head, "Edward doesn't speak German."

"No, not Edward," Peter confirmed. "Though Edward appears to have been the ranking officer among the airmen, and this particular German-speaking airman was translating for him. The Luftwaffe officers were told that this group were airmen of various allied air forces, American, RAF, Australian, who'd been shot down over France and were now being held at the camp against the articles of the Geneva Convention, which has specific codes regarding the capture and treatment of service personnel. They were being kept separate from all the other prisoners in the camp."

"Oh God," I breathed, my stomach churning again. Peter waited. "Okay, go on," I mumbled.

"Seems like once Edward noticed the Luftwaffe officers, he gambled on them upholding a code of honor between airmen, a code of respect if you will, regardless of the opposite side on which we fight, and…well, these two Luftwaffe officers appear to have something resembling human decency."

"Did the Luftwaffe officers have them all released? Where are the rest of them?"

"Well, they promised the airmen that they'd look into what was going on. When they returned to Berlin, they informed their COs of what they'd seen. The CO's promised to get the airmen freed from the camp and sent to a proper POW Stalag. Seems they were concerned about how their own POWs in our prisons would fare if this ever got out."

"Then how did Edward and the other airman end up with the two Luftwaffe officers in the outskirts of Paris?"

"Unfortunately, with the Luftwaffe's air offensive in early January, everything else took a back seat. When these two officers were able to return to the camp a couple of days after the offensive, they were informed that most of the airmen had been sent on to a proper POW Stalag - all except for two airmen who'd fallen sick, the German-speaking one who'd done the translating,"

"And Edward," I breathed.

"And Edward," Peter acknowledged.

"They'd been taken to the infirmary. The Luftwaffe officers were told that they hadn't been transported along with the rest of the airmen because…" he cleared his throat, "because they were expected to die anyway."

The world spun. Peter held on to my arm firmly to keep me from falling over the balcony.

"Like I said, these two seem to have at least half a heart between them. They signed out Edward and the other airman with the excuse that they'd personally transport them to the Stalag. Instead, they crossed them into France meaning to take them as far as St. Die where they'd heard an Allied field hospital had been set up, but by the time they arrived, the hospital had moved on, and then they were soon captured near Nancy. Unable to properly communicate with their captors…well, you know the rest."

For a long while, we were both lost in our own personal hell. I'm not exactly sure what ran through Peter's mind, but I…I could only wonder what exactly Edward had been through, and wonder if and how I'd ever be able to help piece him back together again.

Peter suddenly took my hand. "Bella, I owe both you and Edward an apology."

"We don't need to get into any of that now, Peter. Right now, I just need to focus on getting Edward better so that he can be transferred out of here and to England and hopefully from there, back home."

"I understand," he murmured, yet still, he held on. "I'm going to get going back to England myself. Mac will be staying in Paris with you and Edward. I…I have a feeling Edward doesn't need to see me when he wakes, and honestly…" he swallowed, "I'm glad we found him, Bella; I really am, but…I need the distance."

Carefully, I peeled away my hand. "Thank you, Peter, for everything…from beginning to end, for everything."

He gave me a heart-rending smile, and with a deep sigh, he replaced his cap on his head. "We'll be in touch."

As we walked together back into the room, my eyes immediately found Edward's prostrate form.

His eyes, the color of a dark forest, were open.

"Edward?" I gasped, rushing to him. "Edward, my love, can you hear me?"

He made no answer, no move to turn towards my voice.

"I'll call the doctor," I vaguely heard Peter say.

"Edward," I repeated shakily, cupping his face between my hands. "Edward, it's me, Bella."

There was no sign of recognition, and as I continued to gently speak to him, his eyes closed once more.

Doctor Bryan walked in and quickly examined him, yet Edward wouldn't open his eyes anymore. His fever had finally subsided, and the dysentery finally appeared to be under control.

"What's going on, Doctor?" I finally asked. "Why won't he open his eyes again?"

Doctor Bryan took a deep breath and turned towards me.

"Miss Swan, Captain Cullen has been through a difficult few months. He may simply be fatigued beyond comprehension, or eventually…we may have to consider possible brain damage, amnesia-"

I shook my head and took my seat next to Edward, picking up the journal.

"There's still so much we don't know about the human mind," Doctor Bryan said. "Keep reading to him, Miss Swan. Keep talking to him. He may not seem to hear you, but…" he sighed, "I truly believe that sometimes, more than medicine can heal."

I looked up at the doctor and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor. So do I."

Peter didn't return to the room, and it was…many years before I saw him again.

OOOOOOOOOO

Another twenty-four hours passed.

Mac visited. He gave me basically the same information Peter had given me, and he told me he'd only be able to stay for another couple of days. If he didn't return to England soon, he ran the risk of being declared AWOL.

In moments when despair threatened, I reminded myself how much both of us, Edward and I, had struggled just to get here. I told myself that this couldn't be where our story ended. It simply couldn't.

"Come back to me, please," I choked quietly. "I don't care in what manner. I'll help you remember everything from beginning to end." I kissed his hand. "True and loyal hearts never forget. I never forgot, Edward."

Panic welled up inside me at the total lack of a response, and…and despite all my personal assurances, in the late evening hours, with the smell of sickness surrounding me, it all became too much to bear. Months of agony had finally taken its toll, and I ran out to the balcony, allowing the cold night air to wipe away the tears I refused to shed while next to him, even if he refused to open his eyes to see them.

"Why won't he wake?" I asked the darkness. "What more can I do? And..and oh God, Masen."

I refused to allow for the possibility that Edward wouldn't wake, yet once he did, how in the world was I going to tell him about his brother, about Masen?

I hung my head supporting myself on the balcony's ledge.

"It's been six months of this…torture!" I cried. "How much more am I expected to take?" I demanded from no one in particular. "How much longer-"

A loud crash from behind startled me, and I gasped loudly as I spun around and rushed back into the room.

Edward's chest was heaving, his eyes open wide and anxious as he stood unsteadily next to the bed.

I took a desperate step in his direction.

"No." His voice was a weak and raspy plea, and he held a hand out to stop me.

"Edward, please," I begged.

"No," he repeated somewhat louder with obvious effort. When he took a step towards me, he fell to his knees.

"Edward!" Despite his protests, I rushed to him and dropped to my knees. Again, he held up a hand, indicating I shouldn't come closer. My tears fell unchecked.

"I promised," he rasped, is voice painfully uneven, yet his evergreen eyes bored intently into mine. "I promised…you…" he breathed raggedly, "even…even if I had to crawl on my-"

With a sharp cry, I wrapped myself around him, holding on as tightly as I dared, raining gentle kisses all over his face and his neck. I recalled thinking once that if my love could be a shield, I'd keep Edward safe forever.

And he held on to me as tightly as his frail body would allow, and with his warm face buried against my neck, I felt him draw in a deep, cleansing breath.

Pulling back slightly, I cupped his face and locked him in my gaze.

"Do you recognize me? Do you remember me?"

He gave me a small, crooked smile. "True…true and loyal hearts…Bella."

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I gently lay my head against his chest, and together, we released months' worth of tears.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song: **_**Set the Fire to the Third Bar**_** by Snow Patrol (Again, not a song from this time period, but I think it fits this chapter well)**

*****A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED*****

_**The subject matter in this chapter is difficult to write about. It's always been…hard for my mind to fathom that these things happened. Not that I doubt it in the least, it's just so painful to imagine. But it was a part of the war, and unfortunately, there was a group of about 160 airmen who did end up in the Buchenwald Concentration camp during WWII. Edward's experience after being shot down is based on the real-life story of an American pilot shot down over France in WWII. He was hidden by French resistance for a while and then taken to another agent who would supposedly sneak him into Spain and then on to England. **_

_**The agent that was taking him to his supposed "British Agent", betrayed him, turning him over to the Gestapo. He was then taken to Avenue Foch which at the time was the Gestapo headquarters for all of France. At Avenue Foch he was tortured, labelled a terrorist and denied his rights as a Prisoner of War under the terms of the Geneva Convention. He and other airmen were then taken to a prison seven miles south of Paris. As the front neared them, the Germans decided to ship all of the 168 Allied airmen they were holding to Buchenwald concentration camp in Germany. They left the prison, traveling by train in cattle cars. The cars were designed to hold up to 40 men. The Germans loaded them with 80, forcing their passengers to stand for the long duration of the trip.**_

_**In Buchenwald, the airmen suffered from extensive physical and psychological abuse. A few of them suffered from dysentery, pneumonia and various other illnesses presented by the poor environment. The harsh treatment endured by the airmen at Buchenwald was a blatant violation of the Third Geneva Convention, which specifically prohibits the physical and mental abuse of captured service personnel, and states that they must be treated humanely. **_

_**An officer from the Luftwaffe inspecting allied bomb damage came across the allied airmen prisoners. One of the prisoners who spoke fluent German, highlighted their case to the officer. Sympathetic to their plight (and also aware that Luftwaffe POWs in allied hands could suffer reprisals if he did not intervene) the German officer organized their transfer from Buchenwald to a legitimate prisoner of war camp i.e. Stalag Luft III in what is now Poland.**_

**Heartbreaking.**

**But Edward and Bella are together now, and I'll try to have one more chapter to you guys before Christmas, maybe something that will finally make us smile. :)**

**Thanks so much.**

**Have a great weekend!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	65. Chapter 64 - Darkness to Light

**A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get this out today, but Michelle came through, so here you go. :)**

**I'd hoped to have this story finished by now, but…well, we're almost there. Three or so chapters left after this one.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

****Thanks so much for all your continued thoughts** They're greatly appreciated. 3**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine.**

**Chapter 64 – Darkness to Light**

The first couple of days after Edward woke up were a series of ups-and-downs, and I realized that his recovery wouldn't be as simple as merely the physical healing of his injuries and sickness.

He'd suffered from a concussion that left his speech slow and slightly slurred, and though only time would tell how long these effects would linger, his prognosis for a full recovery improved every day. The doctor planned to keep him in Paris for a few more days and then move him to a convalescence hospital in London. From there, depending on a few variables, he would travel back to the Zone of the Interior in the U.S. to be either discharged…or reassigned.

You see, despite the horrors still occurring and the battles still being fought on the lands bordering the great German Empire, by mid-January of 1945, the outcome of the war in Europe was pretty clear to almost everyone except the madman who'd started it all. Germany's last great offensive, the Battle of the Bulge, had been a failure despite the Allied lives it had taken. Now, the Allies were knocking at Germany's gates. The Nazis were retreating at a pace that had that madman infuriated – even from the safety of his Berlin bunker where he and his lover were now safely ensconced. The Third Reich would collapse; it was simply a matter of time. Therefore, the War Department was reassessing its military needs in the European Theater, and while those soldiers with enough points would receive their discharge papers, the remaining ones, who were lucky enough to have survived years of hell, were to be sent to another hell - the Pacific.

As for Edward, what awaited him depended on a few factors. Despite leaving his hospital bed to literally crawl to me, despite holding me in his arms and pressing his mouth to my neck as he breathed me in, the next time Edward woke and saw me next to him, his eyes grew incredibly wide, both shock and horror reflected in his darkened pupils.

"Bella?" he gasped. "What…how…are you really here?"

"Shh, I'm here." Carefully slipping my hand inside his, I guided his cool fingers to my cheek and smoothed them against my skin where at first they lay limply, touching me with the hesitancy of someone who doubts his own senses. As the seconds passed, his fingers stroked more firmly, tracing the outline of my eyes, moving from one to the other. Consumed by the warmth of his long-lost touch, my eyes closed, and my lips parted while he ghosted the tips of his fingers past my cheek and followed a pattern around my mouth.

"Bella…"

"I'm here, Edward." I puckered my lips around the pads of his fingers. "I'm here."

"You're real…this time…you're real…"

"Yes, my love," I assured him. "I'm real."

Sighing, I reopened my eyes, yet what I found left a gasp lodged in my throat. Edward's eyes were two wide, petrified orbs. His head pivoted from side to side while he simultaneously attempted to lift himself off the bed and scan his surroundings.

"Bella…what…what are you doing here? How…how…you have to…you have to go!"

"Shh, Edward it's okay." Bracing my hands around his shoulders, I tried to hold him down, yet despite his comparative weakness, it was difficult. I snapped my head around and called out sharply for the doctor. Then, regulating my tone, I returned my eyes to Edward. "You're safe, my love. I promise you; we're safe."

"No!" He continued struggling, locking his hands around my arms. "Bella, you…I have to get you out of here!"

Taking his face between my hands, I met his frenzied eyes. "Look at me, Edward."

"Bella…we…" Chest heaving, his feet hit the floor. He fisted the material at the waist of my dress in a death grip. "We have…I have to get you out!"

"Doctor!" I shouted. "Edward, look at me."

His eyes shifted nervously from one end of the room to another, and though all I saw was a bland, relatively empty room, he only grew more agitated. With a pained groan he shoved me back, causing me to stumble, but he kept me upright with the tight grip around my dress. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that he was trying to get me away from whatever it was he was seeing, and right then, it would've been so easy to give up and simply dissolve into tears. But if we both lost it, only God knew into what terror-filled corner of his mind Edward would retreat – or for how long.

Instead, I sucked in a sharp breath and gently stroked his gaunt cheeks with my thumbs, smoothing out the panic lines marring his forehead. Leaning in, I guided his head so that his eyes were forced to meet mine.

"Edward, look at me. Damn it, look at _me_!"

His entire body stilled, and the open fear in his evergreen depths forced me to stifle a whimper.

"Edward, no one can hurt you here."

"I won't let them hurt _you_," he hissed.

"My love, _look at me_," I choked. "I'm fine. _Feel_ me." Prying open his fists, I pressed his palms to my hips, leading them lower to where my body naturally became more supple and round. "Look at me and _feel_ me." I squeezed his hands tighter around me. "I'm real, I'm healthy, and we are _not_ there. We're safe. _Both_ of us are safe."

There was movement behind us then but I wouldn't break our gaze. Edward swallowed thickly, and in his torn expression, I could see the struggle between what his senses showed him and where his mind tried to take him. A dozen emotions flickered through his tormented eyes: dread to confusion to despair to relief and finally…to understanding.

"You're safe," he breathed. "You're safe, Bella."

Moving in slowly, I rested my forehead on his, our warm breaths mingling. "I'm safe. We're both safe."

Minutes passed. Edward's shallow breaths steadily grew deeper and more rhythmic. Fingers that had been digging into my backside slowly made a trail back to my hips, gently stroking along the way.

"Where…where exactly are we?"

"We're in Paris, Edward, in a U.S. army hospital ward. Everything is fine," I cooed gently, over and over. "Everything is fine now."

Edward inhaled sharply and dropped his head to the space between my neck and shoulder and let out a long ragged breath. His hand ran blindly through the length of my hair.

"You cut it," he murmured.

"Yes," I smiled quietly, hoping he wouldn't ask me why. Not yet.

"So did I," he snorted. "Bella…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

"Shh. There's nothing to be sorry for. Just rest, my love. Rest, and soon you'll be as good as new."

With a little coaxing, I managed to get him to lie down again. And after he closed his eyes, I allowed my tears to fall.

OOOOOOOOOO

Mac came and went. There were things about which the Air Force and the Carpetbaggers needed answers, details of what had happened from the moment Edward and his navigator had been shot down to the moment when Edward and the other airman had been found. But in no condition to provide any accurate answers, Edward was left to heal in peace, and for that, I was grateful.

Yet his sleep and wake patterns were erratic. His patience was thin and precarious. When he would wake, the first few seconds were spent in anxious examination of his surroundings. Then he'd see me and remember that we were safe.

At times, he would cooperate and lie perfectly still for examination. At other times, he'd order the doctor's and nurses' away, knock down medical equipment and growl to be left alone. When he would agree to examination, he'd order me out of the room.

At other times, he'd hold on to me with a grip that bordered on painful.

Ten days after we'd found him, Edward woke with a startled gasp, chest heaving and skin as pale and chalky as the bleached hospital sheets covering him. But despite his anxiousness and pallor, there was something different in his eyes, an alert clarity in his pupils. When he sat up, it wasn't with the help of shaky, unsure arms but with strong, precise movement.

"Bella…where's Sebastian?"

I threaded our fingers together. "Do you mean the airman who was with you in the infirmary?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, my love." Bringing his hand to my lips, I kissed it softly before cautiously meeting his gaze. "He died the first night in the hospital."

Edward shut his eyes and swallowed, yet there was no agitated outburst, no panic or eruption. Instead, he was quiet for a long time, and he reopened his eyes with a long and wary breath.

"Masen?"

I swallowed. "Edward…"

I'd known the question was coming, yet the words I'd so carefully prepared over the past few days refused to form on my tongue. Instead, my bottom lip quivered as moisture welled in my eyes.

"Jesus, God," he choked, releasing a long, agonized moan. "When?"

"In July," I whispered, wiping away my tears, "in Normandy, around the same time you…disappeared."

This restrained, clear-headed Edward didn't push me away; instead, he pulled me in and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my chest before giving in to broken, frame-racking sobs. The sound of his anguish reopened my own poorly healed wounds. I locked my arms around Edward's shoulders and kissed his scalp where hair - a darker shade than I remembered - was beginning to grow. And I cried along with him.

"Everyone else…Alice…" he rasped hoarsely.

"Everyone else is fine. Mac was able to locate Alice's unit, and she's been told you were found. She'll meet us in London as soon as she can - as soon as you're well enough to be moved."

He pulled away, resting his back against the bedframe. Head tilted upwards, he studied the cracked plaster on the ceiling while silent tears rolled down his temples, landing heavily on his pillow.

"How are you here, Bella?" he asked, eyes still trained on the ceiling above.

Sitting next to him on the bed, I picked up his hand and pressed it to my chest, heart beating wildly. "I'm here for you."

"How?" he repeated.

"We don't have to talk about that now."

"_How_, Bella?" There was a strength in his voice, a steely determination in his gaze that sent a cool thrill up my spine at the same time that it made my stomach turn uneasily. With Edward apparently wide-awake and truly alert, I could no longer avoid certain conversations. Shifting nervously, I studied our joined hands, avoiding his eyes.

Edward knew me too well. Dropping his head, he forced himself into my line of vision. The thoughts he'd been too injured to verbalize now spilled out like whitewater rushing from a broken dam.

"I saw you, Bella. In my dreams. Always. When I was shot down, you were the last face I saw as I fell and the first one when I came to. When they kept me hidden, when I was…captured…you were always in my dreams."

Tears rolled down my cheeks and fell over our laced hands. "I _knew_ you weren't dead."

"Sometimes you felt so real that when I'd wake, I couldn't breathe from the pain of knowing I'd just been dreaming. I married you in my dreams. I made love to you in my dreams. We had a family and lived _an entire lifetime_ in my dreams, and I swore," he hissed, "that if it was the last thing I ever did, I'd see your beautiful face again."

"I'm here." I smiled through my tears, laying my head carefully against his chest. I knew he wasn't completely healed, yet I couldn't resist continuously touching him. A caress of his stubbly face, a stroke of his injured arm, the feel of his scarred shoulder and his callused hands – they were all physical proof that though he'd been hurt, he was here. He was alive, his beautiful heartbeat was so strong and sure against my ear. "I'm here, Edward," I sighed, "and we don't ever have to be apart again."

With one arm around my shoulder, he kept me close, running his fingers through my hair, warm lips pressed to my scalp.

"You kept me alive, Bella. Knowing you were out there…safe…living your life out of harm's way…shielded from these…nightmares," he breathed. "You kept me alive. You gave me purpose. No matter what, always know that. You kept me _alive_."

Brows furrowed together in confusion, I pulled away just enough to meet his eyes.

When he smiled, it was a smile swathed in unfathomable sadness. "I kept hearing your voice, but I thought I was still dreaming. And then I opened my eyes." His gaze swept away from me towards the balcony behind us. "You _were_ there…on the balcony with him…with Pete…Peter. In his arms." His eyes met mine, darkened by painful confusion. "The way he held you, with so much…love and longing. He stroked your hair the way I used to stroke your hair. He kissed your head the way I used to kiss it."

"No, Edward." I shook my head. "No. Peter was only comforting me."

"I thought I was dreaming again," he said, shifting his gaze away,"or dreaming still. A nightmare, but it couldn't be - not if you were in it. It was reality," he swallowed, "a reality I wasn't sure I could face. So I closed my eyes again thinking perhaps…perhaps dreaming would be better-"

"Edward-"

Without looking down, he picked up my left hand and ran his thumb over my naked ring finger.

"Where's your ring?"

"I had to take it off."

His gaze snapped back to me, eyes now burning like flames. "And I had to tell you," he hissed, cupping my face between stronger yet well-controlled hands. "I _had_ to tell you that I was so sorry for everything and that you saved my life, and that no matter what, I'll always love-"

"Edward, stop," I begged. "It's not what you're thinking."

"_How_ are you here, Bella?" he demanded.

"I came looking for _you,_Edward. Peter was only helping me. He was the only one who'd help me."

The torment in his eyes made my heart clench. He released my face, backing away from me while his angular jaw tightened, and his gaze trailed back up to the ceiling.

"Did you fall in love with him?"

"Listen to me," I growled lowly, "my heart has always been and will always be true and loyal to you and only you!"

He closed his eyes then and let out a long, ragged breath. When he opened and stretched out his arms, I climbed into the space waiting for me and laid my body on his as much as I could without hurting him, releasing my own pent up breaths while melting into him.

"You fit _perfectly_. Like…like you're still mine," he exhaled.

"That's because I am. I always have been and I always will be."

His hold tightened. "Thank you."

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, trying to ease some of my weight off of him.

"You're still mine. You _can't_ hurt me. Bella…there are things…memories that are foggy, clouded and murky at the edges…as if they're dreams and not actual…you wondered…a long time ago…you wondered where you belonged…" The phrase came out as a question more than a statement, as if he needed confirmation that it had actually happened.

'Yes," I nodded, looking up and trying to brush away the line between his brows, "I did."

His eyes bored into mine. "I remember this: _this_ is where you belong, Bella," he sighed, crushing me against his chest.

"In your arms…" I smiled, kissing his heart.

"In my heart."

OOOOOOOOOO

After that, Edward's recovery proceeded better than the doctors had hoped. Though still debilitated and somber, he was much more cooperative, and his strength improved daily. He slept quite a bit, and the doctor said that was probably one of the best things for him. So while he slept, I slept. When he'd wake, we'd talk - not about the subjects I knew we still had to tackle, but about his recovery, about my family and his. About Masen. He told me about Sebastian. Not entirely – not very much even. There were things of which he simply couldn't speak. I understood because though I told him about Leah, it was only superficial. She was a girl I'd met in France. The best person I'd met in France. One of the best people I'd ever met. I missed her. I'd always miss her.

I read to him from his earlier journals, which he seemed to enjoy. Though the basics of his memories all seemed to be intact, there were gaps in some of the details which greatly frustrated him, especially when the doctor said those details might never fully return.

The letter at the bottom of my purse…the one he'd written and given to Mac to give me just in case…I wouldn't touch that letter. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason for me to ever read that letter.

No longer contagious, and with rooms and beds in the ward being under great demand, Edward was given a couple of roommates a few days into his recovery, which meant I could no longer share the room with him – something which had gone completely against hospital protocol in the first place. Luckily, I was allowed to share the nurses' quarters. After years of separation and after what we'd both been through in the past few months, it was difficult for both Edward and me to be apart for more than a few minutes at a time.

On the morning when Edward was to be moved to London, I hastily readied myself, bathing in the nurses' quarter's only cold shower, dressing in a simple blue dress and tying a dark scarf around my head. Anxiously taking the steps to the fifth floor ward, I stepped into the room Edward shared with two fellow soldiers, one who'd punctured a lung when a grenade had sent him soaring.

Edward and Mac stood on the balcony where the early morning French sun shone its cool winter rays over the dark hair growing on Edward's scalp and face. One man was dressed in uniform while the other wore his hospital-issued pajama pants and a white tee shirt. Despite his steady improvement, Edward was still very thin.

He was shaking his head and running a hand through his hair while Mac spoke lowly, one hand on Edward's good shoulder. When both men suddenly looked over and spotted me, the somber expression on their faces made my stomach tighten. In response, I tightened my sweater around myself.

Still, Edward gave me my favorite lopsided grin and held out his hand to me. I took a few steps closer, saying a quick prayer for the soldiers still asleep in their beds while crossing the room. When I reached Edward, he knit our fingers together and brought me against his chest, brushing his lips to my temple.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He smelled clean and fresh. He smiled, but there was something tight in his smile.

"Good morning. Should you be up?" I looked up at him questioningly, brow wrinkled.

The edges of his mouth now turned down. "I can't stay in bed forever, Bella. Besides, I was allowed a proper bath today," he announced proudly. "None of that sponge bath business."

I chuckled, knowing how much he'd been looking forward to a real bath. "That's wonderful. Were there any problems?"

He rolled his eyes, cheeks reddening, and though I realized that he most likely didn't want Mac thinking he'd need any help, I loved seeing the color in his face.

"Of course not." He squared his shoulders. "Why would there be any problems?"

I smiled and shook my head. "There wouldn't be."

"Now if they'd just give me a uniform," he griped.

Mac chuckled heartily. "I was just telling Ed that they won't issue him a new uniform until he's about done with convalescence. You're gonna have to do with hospital duds a bit longer."

"I hate these pajamas," Edward scowled. "They make me feel like an invalid. I need my uniform," he grumbled.

Cupping his cheek, I reassured him. "Listen to the doctors and keep improving, and you'll be out of those pajamas before you know it."

He gazed at me with a strange expression before kissing the tip of my nose. "Yes, Nurse Dwyer."

I bit my lip. I hadn't yet told him that I'd been Swan for the past few months. I hadn't told him plenty. Yet by the way his nostrils suddenly flared and he inhaled deeply, and based on how serious and grim both he and Mac had looked a few minutes ago, I had a feeling he'd just been let in on a few things.

"Well," Mac shifted his feet, pressing his cap to his chest and suddenly looking uncomfortable, "the transport will start loading those patients being transferred to London in a few minutes. I'll…wait outside unless you need me."

Edward kept his eyes on me. "We'll be fine. Thanks, Mac."

As soon as Mac left, Edward exhaled and turned towards the balcony. Gazing out, his hand reached for mine, knitting our fingers together. I watched his eyes sweep over the suburban streets of the outer limits of Paris: graceful stone buildings adorned with sky-blue shutters and wrought-iron window boxes where small, bricked, tree-lined streets led to a main road. An eleventh century church with a triangular roof depicting a relief of Jesus and his Apostles and tall columns in the Greco-Roman style rang its ancient bell loud and true.

I turned towards the balcony as well.

More than a few minutes passed.

"_He_…Peter brought you here…as a spy," he said, his voice low and strained.

"He helped me get to Europe by introducing me to OSS. The rest were things I did because I had to."

"You _had_ to, Bella." There was a cool, lack of inflection in his tone, as if he were trying very hard to control himself. "You had to."

"Yes, I _had_ to. I had to find you, Edward. Everyone…everyone said you were dead. The damn War Department said you were dead."

He dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand while his other hand squeezed mine tighter.

"I can't…" his head snapped up, eyes like slits taking in the streets below. "If you hadn't come by when you did, Bella…if you hadn't found me when you did, I'd be…" We both knew how that sentence ended. Turning to face me, he smacked the balcony with his open palm. "But what am I supposed to say, Bella? God, the OSS…how did Philip even agree and not kill him?"

"Edward, I'm no longer the seventeen year old girl you left behind. I've changed – by necessity."

His eyes held mine, searching. Swallowing hard, he cradled my cheek in one hand. "You're not." He stepped closer, his warm breath fanning against my face. "I remember…I remember you were a beautiful young girl. Now…now you're absolutely…Bella, you're the strongest, bravest _woman_…but Jesus, Bella," he breathed, shutting his eyes tight the way one does when fighting away a horrific image. "I can't…I can't even think about you in those situations. I flew people into those situations! And picturing you…" he ran a frustrated hand through his growing hair, "picturing you there _kills_ me. You could've gotten…you could've…Jesus, I can't lose you."

"And it kills me to think of you being shot down, broken, hurting, hiding, and then in that place you won't even speak of to me. But we made it through, Edward. We both made it through."

He crushed me against his chest and spoke vehemently. "I've never deserved you."

"That's not true."

"It is," he smiled ruefully. "But regardless…" His hand trailed down from my cheek and slid behind the nape of my neck, pulling me in closer until I could see the heat burning in his eyes like a wildfire in a forest of majestic evergreens. "Regardless, I'll _never_ give you up."

His eyes dipped to my mouth then, and oh, how I ached to feel his lips on mine. Sickness had kept his lips from mine - his choice, not mine – and then he ached for a bath, for a real cleansing.

But now…now his eyes traveled back and forth from my eyes to my lips.

He leaned in closer. "My woodland nymph with the golden eyes. I've wanted you so badly…"

When our mouths met he groaned. Soft lips that were sweeter than honey, sweeter than I even allowed myself to remember, swept back and forth over mine, and I remembered this. It was how he'd always asked for entrance. On tiptoes, I cradled his neck, releasing a soft sigh when he parted my lips with his warm tongue. It'd been so long. Years. Lifetimes. He held my face between his hands, wiping away my tears while we reacquainted ourselves with the perfect rhythm we'd once possessed: my top lip in between his, his bottom lip gently cupped by mine. Over and over, tongues and breaths mixing until breathless, we pulled back. Panting. Foreheads pressed together.

"Bella…I dreamed of your kisses, of your soft, sweet lips." He traced the outline of my mouth.

"I dreamed of you…" I found his mouth again, breathing my breaths into him, my life always intermingled with his. "Always."

OOOOOOOOOO

The weeks in the convalescent hospital in London both dragged and went quickly. Unsure as to what the War Department planned for Edward, part of me wanted the days to go as slowly as possible. Yet at the same time, I knew how he longed to be completely well again – to be the strong, able-bodied man he'd been just a few months ago.

His shoulder had been reset in Paris. Now, he had to go through physical therapy to recover full use of it. Once he was physically able, calisthenics were added to his daily routine to rebuild his strength. With every day that passed, a healthier glow returned to his cheeks. Though his speech was back to normal, he still suffered from headaches. Yet what bothered him more were the persistent gaps in his memory, small things like the name of his sixth grade teacher or the color of the dress I wore for my fourteen-year-old birthday gala or the first jazz song he taught me to play on his parents' piano.

We read through his journals. A line of frustration would peek between his brows when there was something he couldn't recall. He had nightmares as well.

Yet despite the headaches, the gaps in memory, the nightmares, and the stress of physical therapy, Edward's evergreen eyes would brighten and a crooked grin would lift up the edges of his mouth when I'd arrive in the afternoons to visit him. Now that we were back in London, I'd recovered my ring. I'd let a small pad near the hospital and resumed my volunteer work with the Red Cross, something which had originally been meant to be my cover but now helped me pass the days feeling useful and not constantly dwelling on Edward.

Peter…Peter stayed away.

I'd tried to make Edward understand that Peter wasn't to blame for the things I'd been through in Europe, but I suppose it was too soon. Things were still too raw.

So we walked around the hospitals gardens, each day increasing his endurance and stamina. We focused mainly on the here and now, setting aside certain subjects for later - some for months later, some would wait years. Instead, I reminded him of every detail of the Savannah weekend when he proposed. We talked about FDR, Churchill and Stalin's conference in Yalta near the Ukraine to discuss the reorganization of post-war Europe. We shared our shock at the Royal and American Air Force's carpet-bombing of Dresden and gave thanks that, setting aside how it came to be, Edward hadn't been required to be part of those missions. We prayed and worried along with everyone else when the Marines invaded Iwo Jima, and we sighed in pride at the AP photograph of the soldiers bending knees and banding together to raise the American flag over Mount Suribachi.

He read his letters from his family, and I read mine from both my fathers. Alice visited on a two-day pass, and she cried for close to an hour on her brother's shoulder. I left them alone for an afternoon so that they could both rejoice in Edward's life…and mourn their brother's death.

In the evening, she and I caught up – not under our evergreen tree the way we used to as young girls but in a restaurant thousands of miles from that tree. We quietly wondered how things would transpire once we all returned home. So much had happened in the span of a few months. So many dynamics had changed. None of us were the person we'd been when we'd first left our homeland, whether two and a half years ago or six months ago.

OOOOOOOOOO

In late February of 1945, Allied bombings over Germany no longer targeted specific factories or rail yards or oil supplies. With the claim that certain areas held major rail transports or communication centers housing hundreds of factories and thousands of workers supporting the Nazi war effort, incendiary bombs wiped out entire German cities. The destruction of thousands of civilian lives and hundreds of years of culture became collateral damage, retribution for a war that had lasted almost six years.

Edward's physical health had improved by leaps and bounds, and now he awaited word from the War Department for what his next step would be. Every night, I'd say a prayer that his duty and sacrifice to his country had been deemed sufficient. That those in charge would grant him his discharge and send him back home. By late February 1945, though the outcome of the war was determined to the point where conferences were being held to resolve how to split up Germany and decide how to reorganize countries decimated by almost six years of conflict, there were still soldiers dying, still men and women losing their lives for a cause already decisively won by one side and lost by the other.

In late February, after a long shift with the Red Cross, I arrived at the convalescent hospital to visit with Edward. Taking the steps up to the third floor ward where those men almost fully recovered and mainly awaiting word were housed, I sighed while unwrapping my head scarf and removing my gloves, wondering if Edward had received word yet…and what that word would be. Images of him flying over the murky waters of the Pacific filled my mind, and I was so lost in thought that I came up short, my breath quietly hitching when I reached the room Edward shared with three other men of lower rank and found his bed not only empty but perfectly made, the sheets impeccably straight and tight over the thin mattress.

Two of the men who shared Edward's room were playing cards at the small table in the corner while the other man sat up head reclined against his headboard, seemingly engrossed in the novel in his hands.

With a confused smile, I greeted them. "Good afternoon. Where is Captain Cullen?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan. Can't say I've seen the Cap today. You seen him, Tommy?"

Tommy pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and focused on the cards before him. "Nope, Johnny, can't say I have. How 'bout you, Tony? You seen Captain Cullen?"

Tony shook his head, keeping his eyes on his book. "Nope. Haven't seen him."

"Oh. Alright, well, thank you." Brows knit together, I turned and walked out of the room.

A few different scenarios played themselves in my head as I walked to the nurses' station. He could've been moved to another room, but why? The ward was mainly composed of men mostly healed and simply waiting for their hospital discharges and further instruction. He could've been discharged, but Edward wouldn't leave without waiting for me. Or…

He could've had some sort of…relapse.

With quicker steps, I reached the busy nurses' station and leaned over the counter to speak to the nurse in charge.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, can someone please tell me where Captain Cullen might be?"

"Captain Cullen?" she echoed. "Why, he should be in his room."

"He's not," I said, my stomach beginning to tighten.

"Well then…Katie," the nurse asked another nurse who was writing something down, her back to us, "do you know where Captain Cullen might be?"

"Captain Cullen? The dreamy, Hollywood-type airman in Room 5? Why I wish I knew…" She turned around and trailed off upon seeing me. "Oh! Uhm…no, I haven't seen him."

"Alright. Thank you."

Heart racing now, I turned around and slowly walked the length of the hallway, not really sure of where I was headed. Of course, he could've been out in the gardens, but I couldn't picture him walking there without me. Then again, he may have simply been walking around, stretching his legs. I knew how much he hated being stuck in the hospital at this point, but in all the weeks since he'd been here, I'd never arrived to find him not waiting for me.

"Stop panicking, Bella," I chided myself, fingering my engagement ring. "You can't live the rest of your life panicking whenever he's not…"

The sound of footsteps anxiously pounding over the floors at the end of the hallway rang out in my ears, and I looked up sharply. The stairwell door creaked open and out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered though still somewhat thin officer in a pristine uniform, his dark jacket sharp and perfectly starched, buttoned and buckled immaculately so that his lean frame commanded respect and attention. Underneath, his tie was perfectly knotted, and the sharp crease in his tan slacks remained thoroughly pleated with every slow yet sure and straight step he took towards me. His black shoes had been shined to a gleaming luster. As my eyes trailed up his form, he removed his cap, pressing it against his torso, and the hair that had now grown back darker than it had been before also shined clean and trim.

His mouth was lifted in a bemused grin, and his eyes…those evergreen orbs locked me into his gaze with their overwhelming vitality and life.

He stopped just before me, standing tall and regal, one hand holding his cap and the other bent behind him. And the rest of the world narrowed and faded.

"I wanted to surprise you," he smiled, shrugging somewhat bashfully. "I know…I remember that you used to like seeing me in uniform, and these past couple of months, well…you've always looked so beautiful, and I've been in hospital duds," he smirked.

I chuckled. "I haven't minded at all." I reached out and touched his lapel, fingering the silver wings he'd earned a thousand times over. "Though I do love seeing you in uniform."

"It's not the best fit for now," he said, cradling my cheek, "but…I wanted to look at least half decent for you…for _this_."

"For _this_?" I smiled quizzically.

The hand behind his back came forward and extended between us as he held out a small bouquet of wild daisies, which reminded me of that meadow in La Rochelle and of Leah.

Then he dropped to one knee, and my breath caught in my throat. All around us, I would've sworn the world stilled.

"I couldn't find any roses like the ones I picked for you at that garden in Savannah," he grinned up crookedly, "so I hope these are nice enough."

"Edward," I choked.

"And no, it's not Savannah. And you and I…we're not the kids we were that day. We've been through over two years of separation, and through war and…" he swallowed, "and through the pain of thinking we may have lost one another."

The tears trailed down my cheeks. "Edward."

"But over these past couple of months, I've gotten to know you again, to know the beautiful woman who's grown from the beautiful girl she used to be and become the absolutely stunning person that stands before me now. I've gotten to know your strength and your courage, to love how despite everything that's happened, you _still_ see the world with optimism and faith, with your unshakable beliefs, with your certainty in promises and hope…and love."

"I love _you_, Edward," I smiled through my tears.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before reopening them.

"The ring you're wearing still has my heart and very soul wrapped around it, the soul _you_ saved, and I want to ask you again. I want to ask _this_ Bella, this perfect, wonderful woman before me to be my wife…but not a few years down the line, not when this war is over, not when the world says it's okay, but now, _right now_ \- if you'll have me, Bella."

Covering my mouth, I laughed and sobbed all at once.

"I'm being discharged from the hospital with a four day pass before being sent back home for reassignment. And I don't know what that'll be," he said shakily, "but whatever it is, I want to face it as your husband, with you as my wife. I want to make-"

I never did find out what that last thing he wanted to make was – though I had an idea – because I lunged myself into his arms, crushing the poor flowers between us as I wrapped my arms around his neck and crashed my mouth to his. Dropping the flowers, Edward pulled me flush against his chest and met my fervent kisses with soft yet demanding lips.

"Is that a yes?" he breathed against my mouth. "Because if it is, I've been told there's a church nearby."

"I'm ready whenever you are," I smiled.

Behind us, nurses and fellow patients cheered and clapped at a few moments of joy amidst the horrors of war.

OOOOOOOOOO

We were married two days later, on February twenty-seventh, 1945. It wasn't a high society affair on the east coast of the U.S. nor was it in a wooded back yard full of family and friends. Not in the fashionable heat of a city summer nor in the cool breeze of a woodland fall.

It was a short, private ceremony on a cold, damp and clouded winter morning in a small, Anglican church which had survived raids and rockets and the fury of a madman. Only four people were present: the minister, Edward, Mac as a witness, and me. There was no long satin and lace dress with a mile-long train created with black market materials or even a dress hand-made by a loving mother. I wore a pretty cream, pencil skirt that opened like a rose past my knees with a fitted, matching waist-length jacket. There was no veil on my head, but my hair was styled in soft waves and pinned back on one side with white-petaled daisies, bright yellow in their center. Edward stood tall and proud in his uniform with the bronze Distinguished Service Cross he'd recently received and the new, gold oak leaf on his shoulder distinguishing him as a Major. His short hair was combed back and darker than it had ever been.

We quietly yet fervently spoke the vows we'd made in our hearts years earlier, vows that would now bind us forever as husband and wife. There were no distractions, no fighting relatives or dramatic scenes. Nothing to cause our eyes to stray from one another.

When we were pronounced husband and wife, Edward sighed unevenly and drew me into his arms, kissing me with a passion that took my breath away - and may have been slightly inappropriate considering the venue. His strong hands were firm on my back as he held me close. His mouth and heat consumed me.

"You're my wife." A mischievous grin lit up his handsome face as he spoke against my lips. I nodded, too emotional to answer. Despite Mother, despite Edward's own initial doubts, despite Peter's insistence that Edward and I weren't meant to be, and despite a world at war, we'd made it here. It hardly seemed real.

When we pulled back, Mac chuckled and stepped forward to kiss my cheek before shaking Edward's hand and patting his good shoulder.

"Now this being your wedding day, I'll make myself scarce, but first, would you like the good news or the really good news?"

"Give us the good news," I grinned.

"Alright," he said excitedly. "With Allied Headquarters now moving to Reims, The London Savoy is back in business." He held out a fisted hand and Edward instinctively responded with an open palm. "Enjoy your wedding night," Mac grinned, dropping a key into Edward's waiting palm. "And I've been instructed to tell you…and your wife," he said slowly and with no little emotion, "to be at port tomorrow morning ready to set sail on the _RMS Queen Mary_, who'll be taking you to your reassignment…back home at Fort Lewis, Washington State."

I watched Edward's handsome profile, the strong jaw and the perfectly round birthmark just to the left side of it. I watched it rise and fall as he swallowed and breathed in deeply before allowing a small smile to spread across his face. When he turned, he lifted me off the ground abruptly. I squealed in delight as he held me pressed against his beautiful heart.

"Edward, we're going home!" I gazed at him incredulously.

"We're going home, Mrs. Cullen," he responded, voice strangled yet full of exhilaration. "But first…"

I think Mac may have said something more, but by then Edward was rushing me out of the church while I laughed and giggled heartily in his arms.

Outside, the rare English sun suddenly shone over us in this mystifying world that engulfed us like a rising river, cutting off our air with the misery of growing conflict and death. But then just as we thought we might drown, it crested like a gentle wave, resuscitating us with the hope of peace and life…and love.

And at the tail-end of that greatest of wars, the Second World War that had taken so much from so many, that had seen some of my darkest days, my faith in life was restored by one of the brightest and happiest of days.

OOOOOOOOOO

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**We're almost done. :)**

**AoI Playlist Song: **_**I'll Buy that Dream **_**by Harry James &amp; His Orchestra:**

_**Imagine me with my head on your shoulder**__**  
**__**And you with your lips getting bolder**__**  
**__**A sky full of moon and a sweet mellow tune**__**  
**__**I'll buy that dream**_

_**Imagine me in a gown white and flowery**__**  
**__**And you thanking Dad for my dowry**__**  
**__**A church full of folks, those last minute jokes**__**  
**__**I'll buy that dream**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you next week!**


	66. Chapter 65 - Going Home

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts. Please know that I read and appreciate every single one, but it's not always possible to get back to all of them, and I find myself having to choose between replying to reviews or writing. But your thoughts do mean the world to me. :)**

**Getting closer to the end here.**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 65 – Going Home**

Before the Second World War, the London Savoy Hotel was where both royalty and Hollywood's elite had once been known to mix and mingle. Built in the late eighteen hundreds, it was one of the first hotels in all of Britain with electricity, lifts, and bathrooms in most of the rooms. By the day's standards, the Savoy was the epitome of luxury.

During the London Blitz of 1940, the Savoy was hit by a bomb.

Thankfully, it didn't sustain serious damage, but as a result, a state-of-the-art air-raid shelter was built in the Savoy's basement. As the years passed and the war in Europe raged, the Savoy remained open. Yet while its supper clubs and officer's clubs were among the best in the city, like many London establishments during the war, its rooms were reserved only for the top brass of the Allied military.

However, in early 1945, with the war's end now on the visible horizon, the Savoy reopened its doors to the public at large – at least to those able to afford it. And on February 27, 1945, our wedding day, Mac gifted Edward and me with one night in that lavish hotel.

I recall how as we walked in, the opulent lobby glittered with the most spectacular chandelier which cast a brilliant glow over the wall-to-wall cream-toned carpets. Meanwhile, half a dozen tuxedoed bellhops walked by picking up the smallest flecks of dirt from that carpet. Another tuxedoed gentleman played the piano off to the side while to the right, there stood an elevator built outside of the walls instead of within them, waiting to take its patrons from floor to floor.

"Fancy," my husband nodded as we watched the elevator riding up full of women dripping with diamonds and wrapped in furs next to men in pristine uniforms and suits. "But we're not waiting for it."

Seeing the well-dressed women had sent my mind wandering to Mother, so when Edward slid one arm under my legs and the other under my back and lifted me off of the floor, I was caught off guard.

"Edward, what are you doing?" I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tightly as he rushed us to the staircase. His mouth on mine, I giggled and squealed the entire way, leaving a trail of ogling guests behind us. "Married or not, Mother would _not_ approve of the scene we're making, and in such a high-class establishment!"

"Then it's a good thing she's not here, especially considering that you're my wife now, and I'm about to explode!"

I threw back my head and laughed, laughed the way a young, carefree child would laugh on a warm spring day, especially when Edward proceeded to inform every single startled person we passed that it was our wedding day. The declaration received various responses ranging from congratulations to well wishes to acknowledgments that Edward's apparent rush now made total and complete sense.

Both out of breath from excitement, Edward managed to open our room's door while still cradling me in his arms. We paused just inside, sweeping our eyes across the typically small European hotel room. It was dark with only one narrow window providing minimal and cloudy light, which was further reduced by the dark, black-out curtains on either side. Next to the window stood a tall French armoire built in the King Louis XIV style of rich walnut with crown molding and bun feet. A matching though much more diminutive nightstand held a narrow brass lamp with a cone-shaped porcelain shade decorated in hand-painted golden flowers. It had been left on, presumably in anticipation of the room's next guests.

But it was the piece of furniture next to the nightstand, the only other piece of furniture in the room, which saved the room from being grave and pretentious and honestly, something Mother would've enjoyed, and transformed it into richly informal and charming and...and perfect for us.

Before us stood a beautiful, full-sized brass canopy bed with long, sheer ivory curtains flowing from upper rods like waterfalls and enclosing it entirely from every side. Beyond the translucent curtains, a white billowy bedspread led to downy pillows all atop a firm yet supple-looking mattress.

"It's like our river in the middle of the woods," I breathed.

"I was just thinking something similar."

We gazed wordlessly at one another, sharing a soft smile before Edward cleared his throat.

"Do you…are you hungry?"

I shook my head.

"Do you…I mean do you need time…to…" he stammered.

Two and a half long years had passed since that one and only night in which Edward and I had made love. I'd been a nervous, naïve, not quite eighteen-year-old fiancée then, timidly making excuse after excuse not because I didn't want him, but because I was anxious and unsure about what exactly lay ahead.

I was no longer that timid fiancée. I was now Edward's wife, and though I was anxious, I now knew exactly what lay ahead, and I'd learned better than to waste time beating around the bush.

Cupping his flushed cheek in my hand, I gently met his gaze. "I don't need time for anything else. Make love to me, Edward."

His warm exhalation fanned across my face, his fingers curling tighter around my limbs. Kicking the door closed with his foot, his mouth met mine, gently stroking and brushing his sweet lips across my own. I hadn't even realized we'd been moving until the gauzy curtains parted, and the pliable bedspread yielded to our weight, his body hovering over me as he supported himself on arms that were once again strong and capable. Pulling back slightly, dark, heavy-lidded evergreen eyes met mine, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"This is all so surreal. I'd almost given up hope."

I stroked the soft, dark hair over his scalp. "I knew you couldn't have pulled me out of that river simply to leave me a few, short years later."

He grinned, snorting. "My woodland nymph, always so full of faith." Then his expression sobered. "Bella, I would've never survived without you."

"Likewise. We saved each other."

He inhaled unevenly. "Say it again. Say what you said by the door."

Gently gripping his hair, I held his smoldering gaze. "Make love to me, Edward."

His eyes shuttered slowly, and he dropped his head to the crook of my neck, his sweet breath in my ear, moist mouth on my earlobe. "That's how you'd say it in my dreams. Every night, that's how you'd say it."

"I'll say it every night from now on."

His hands tangled in my hair, lips parting mine, seeking and meeting my tongue while he worked off our various clothing items, throwing them aside beyond the gentle cocoon formed by the filmy curtains. Leaving me in my slip, he remained in his underpants, his frame lean yet healthy once more, stomach muscles tight, shoulders firm and broad. I cupped his face in my hands, stroking his cheeks, wiping away a rogue tear.

"So beautiful and soft," he murmured, his hands smoothing over my bare shoulders, meeting gently around my neck, "just as I remembered."

Eyes on mine, he fisted the hem of my slip, and I lifted myself so that he could ease it up and off. His scorching gaze traveled up and down my body, his breath nonexistent as I reached back and unclasped my bra, allowing it to slip off my shoulders and slide down my arms.

"Perfect," he whispered, eyes glistening as he moved in and holding my hips, wrapped his mouth around a pink peak. "Perfect."

My mouth opened wordlessly, heat cocooning me within the confines of our oasis where soft curtains protected us like shields.

"Your love is my shield," I mouthed, vaguely recalling words and thoughts from the past as I cradled his head, my mouth on his scalp while he paid equal worship to those parts of me that had ached so long for him. I gazed almost unseeingly at the gilded ceiling above me. His mouth followed a scorching trail of wet kisses upwards, meeting my lips once more as if he couldn't bear to be parted from them for too long before retracing a path with his lips to where my heart beat wildly.

"They taste just as sweet as I remember." Firm hands molded my breasts. His mouth skimmed down to my bare stomach, and he kissed it reverently. "Your body is so warm."

Then he simply lay his head down and rested it there, his short hair tickling my belly button. My heavy breaths were short and shallow; his breaths raised goose bumps on my tender skin. He was quiet for a long time, only the sound of our breathing punctuating the air within our curtained barriers. In the stillness, I played with his hair while his thumbs circled around and around my peaks.

He swallowed. "When I was…when I was in that place, I used to warm myself by remembering that night and how your body simply radiated this…amazing heat all over, as if you were the summer sun in human form."

Unable to speak without betraying my emotions, I comforted him in other ways, fingers rubbing tenderly against his scalp.

"It might take me some time to…to believe this - to believe that you're real, and that you and I are…that you're really my wife."

"I'm not going anywhere, Edward," I promised.

Anxious eyes snapped up to mine. "What if I'm still dreaming? What if…what if you're not really here, if neither one of us is here - if you're back home, and I'm…I'm still in that place, and this is just another dream of you? If I wake up alone again," he choked, "if this is just another dream, I don't know if I can take it."

Softly gripping his hair, I guided his head to where I could hold his gaze and offered him a tender smile.

"I'm really here, my love. Touch me," I said, the way I'd told him that day in the hospital when he'd awoken panicked. Taking his hand, I lay it over my breast. "We're both here. _Feel_ me." His fingers curled, and he rested his glorious weight over me once more.

"Love me, Edward."

He groaned, mouth on mine, swallowing my breaths. "You're real."

"Whenever you need reassurance, I'll be here to give it to you because I need it too. Touch me everywhere, Edward. Make love to me, and I promise you, you'll never wake alone again."

Eagerly, his hands explored my body while our mouths tasted and comforted: fingers running through my hair, tracing the curve of my shoulders, ghosting over the swells of my breasts, following the peaks and valleys of my torso, curving around the roundness of my hips before disappearing into the warmth of that most sensitive of spots. His mouth was always on mine so that when I cried out, he swallowed every sound I made, the soft and the loud, evergreen eyes gazing in reverent wonder while his gentle finger moved inside me, reacquainting me with the wonders of physical bliss. My back arched, seeking to give myself over to the perfect warmth spreading throughout.

"Your eyes…the way you…I _can't_ be dreaming."

"You're not. _We're_ not. _Ohhh_…we're not dreaming, Edward."

His kisses and touches led the way, and I followed body and soul to a precipice where falling led to an oblivion that lifted me high, high, high…where tightly coiled muscles flexed and released and opened. He took my hands and raised them over our heads, and together we flew into soft pillows that surrounded us like clouds, our names prayers on one another's grateful breaths, his weight warm and welcome when he finally eased himself inside. I breathed and sighed, ready in a way I now realized I hadn't been that night two and half years ago. Grown, changed, and matured, I now knew of what true love consisted. True love never asked; it answered. True love kept a man alive when he shouldn't have survived. True love protected a woman through hell and back.

True love took you to the ends of the world.

And that's where our lovemaking carried us, to a place where we'd never been apart, where our bodies had been joined this way for years and years and knew every way to please the other. His groans muffled against my neck. My soft moans filled his ears. With arms and hands and legs I writhed and anchored myself to him in every way, with every part of my body, and in return, I opened up for him and became his anchor. When the heat rose from my core and released like lightning into every extremity, I cried out against his warm mouth, yet the waves continued lapping as he kept moving inside of me, gently stroking as his thrusts carried me home like a flower in the air guided by the undulating breeze.

And when it was his turn to fall, he didn't do so alone. Just as I promised, I was there for him...with him…

Always.

##########

My eyelashes flutter open.

For a few sudden seconds, I see the world through a peculiar sort of kaleidoscope. It doesn't so much distort the images before me as it alters them into unrecognizable scenes. Instead of finding myself lying warm and safe in Edward's strong arms, I'm confronted by pretty faces, evergreen shrubs, colors and voices that all tumble and twist together into a nonsensical, incomprehensible pattern completely unrelated to the images my brain is currently transmitting.

I shut my eyes again.

"Mama?"

"Nana?"

When I reopen my eyes, the alternate images are still there, sitting wide-eyed before me on a green field of grass that continues as far as the eye can see. Four women from three different generations all stare at me with matching expressions of bewilderment, matching sets of moist, shiny eyes and rosy, tear-streaked cheeks. Looking at one of them in particular is almost like looking into a mirror-image of myself until…

Well, until it hits me: I haven't looked like that in about a half century.

Like the scattered pieces of the image-warping toy, the kaleidoscope pieces all suddenly line up and fall into place: the back yard I'm in, the swing on which I'm slowly gliding back and forth.

The mirror image is my granddaughter, Isabella. She scoots closer on her knees and places a warm hand on my lap.

"You're back, Nana."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Was I gone again?"

"Only for a little while. Nana…" she smiles through trembling lips, "do you remember? You were telling us about the war….about your copper-haired young man and about…" her voice is a strangled whisper, "about when he was shot down, and everyone thought he was dead. But you had faith, and you went to Europe and joined the OSS, and you found him," she chuckles despite her tears. "You found him and nursed him back to health and-"

"Nana?" Olivia interrupts as she's been doing all afternoon - yet it's not with the rash, insensitive manner of earlier in the day. Rather, her voice has grown quiet and reserved and possibly even…awed. "Was all that true? Did you really join the OSS as a spy?"

"It's all true," my daughter, Leah, confirms. "Her name is on the OSS Operatives list released by the National Archives a few years ago. When I was just a bit younger than you two," she smiles at her granddaughters, "I asked Nana where my name came from, and she sat me down and told me I was named after a very brave, very special young woman, and she told me how she met her."

"Nana?" Skye, who's always been the more sensitive of the two twins, studies me through huge blue eyes, too big at the moment for her round, delicate blond head. Dark eyelashes sweep under her eyes, clinging wetly to one another. There's something new in her expression as well, something different that I can't recall being there when she arrived earlier appearing bored and bothered about having to visit the grandparents.

"Nana, the brave airman…the courageous soldier…the copper-haired young boy who grew into a man whose hair came in darker after the war…"

"My dad - your great grandpop Edward," Leah grins, pride evident in her voice and her expression while a solitary tear rolls down her slightly lined cheek. "He was my dad: Major Edward Cullen."

"Great Grandpop Edward…" Skye repeats in wonder.

"Of course he's Grandpop Edward," I chuckle. "Who else would he be?"

Isabella smiles and takes my hand, the Isabella of now with the Isabella of then.

"There's still more you can tell us, right Nana? What happened when you and Grandpop came back to the home front? And what happened in those last few months of the war?"

Once again, the kaleidoscope twists and turns, rattles and shakes and takes me to a time and place not in the here and now.

##########

Hmm. Let's see. Well, we'll have to go back a little bit further for this part, almost back to the beginning actually.

In the spring of 1936, when I was eleven, Mother, Papa Phil, and I were returning home after vacationing abroad, and we set sail first-class on the _RMS_ _Queen Mary_, who was sailing her maiden voyage from Southampton, England to New York City.

I recall clinging to Mother and Papa as we boarded, completely terrified. You see, it had only been a mere twenty-four years since the sinking of the infamous _RMS Titanic_, also owned by the Cunard White Star Line. Now, the _Queen Mary_ was the Line's new flagship: the fastest westward bound passenger ship in the world - the pride of Cunard.

To my young, impressionable mind, this all portended a horrible omen.

Papa Phil did his best to reassure me. The morning after we boarded, while Mother brunched in the first class lounge, Papa Phil took me to the control room to meet with the captain, who assured me that there were no hidden icebergs in May, and that in case of some unforeseen disaster, there were indeed enough lifeboats for the almost three-thousand souls on board. When that didn't work to allay my fears, Papa took me to the ship's state-of-the-art movie theater and asked the technician to allow me the run of the mill so I could pick any movie I wanted to watch. Finally, still feeling panicked after watching Charlie Chaplin in _Modern Times_ and Laurel and Hardy in _The Bohemian Girl_, Papa took me back up on deck where we watched dolphins chase behind us like young children on a playground playing hide-and-seek. We laughed and pointed, and by then…well by then, my childish innocence – as well as the magnificence of the ship – had worked their magic.

For the rest of the crossing, I had my pick of swimming pools, Mother spent more than a few afternoons in the French beauty salon and spa, and Papa Phil spent long afternoons in either the Billiards room, the Brandy Room, or the Cigar Room. Mother and Papa Phil would play tennis on the courts while I visited the children's nursery. In the evenings, we'd dine in the Grand Salon, a three-story dining room anchored by wide columns made of the finest wood in the vast British Empire. After dinner, we'd either stroll under the stars up on the Sun Deck, or I would be left in the care of a nurse while Mother and Papa Phil visited one of the ship's entertainment venues. Sailing at her top speed, the ship had us home five days later, and I was truly sorry to debark. The only thing that cheered me was the knowledge that in a few weeks, it would be summer, and we'd be headed for Forks to see Alice…and Edward.

As with the Savoy in London, with the outbreak of war in 1939, the civilian world was denied another luxury. The _Queen Mary's_ outside surfaces were painted navy grey. The hull was fitted with a special coil to protect her from magnetic mines planted by German U-boats. Gone were the elegant stateroom furnishings and decorations. The pools were drained, lined instead with bunks that were sometimes stacked seven high. Miles of carpet, hundreds of cases of china, crystal and silver service, tapestries and paintings were all evacuated off the ship. She was then fitted with thousands upon thousands of bunks, with guns and artillery, and the _Queen Mary_ became _The Grey Ghost,_ the largest and fastest troopship of the second worldwide war.

And on March first, 1945, Edward and I sailed the _Grey Ghost_ home under extremely different conditions than those in which I'd sailed on her almost a decade earlier. The First Class Smoking Lounge on deck five, where Papa Phil had spent so many of his hours, had now been converted into a hospital ward for the sick and wounded troops being transported home. The ship's nurses and Red Cross volunteers spent much of their time here and were billeted on the same floor.

As far as honeymoons went, I'm sure it wasn't what most would call ideal. The ship was overcrowded with approximately ten thousand troops and personnel. Except for perhaps the captain, absolutely no one had his or her own stateroom. Instead, most staterooms, which were reserved for officers, now slept an average of four per cabin while enlisted men were billeted absolutely everywhere and anywhere else. There was no such thing as privacy. In addition to the cramped conditions, the ship sailed a zig zag pattern for most of the crossing to prevent its course from being tracked by the U-boats. This pattern, along with the typically rough Atlantic waters, meant that there was copious amounts of vomiting occurring at all hours of the day and night. Nurses and aids were kept busy while officers and troops grew bored and restless.

And while nurses were allowed to speak to the troops during their off time, there was a strict "no fraternization" policy, regardless of marital status.

All of this meant that at the end of each evening, Edward retired to his shared cabin on deck nine, and I retired to my converted game room slash nurses' quarters on deck five.

Six months earlier, I'd flown to England via a pattern as indirect as the one we were currently sailing, and Edward was missing. Now, we were returning together, on a ship bursting at the seams with soldiers, a ship with a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bounty on her head - a bounty promised by the madmen of Germany and Japan to any U-boat able to sink her. I worked twelve hour shifts while Edward exercised and walked the upper deck for fresh air, and then chain-smoked until sunset when smoking on deck became forbidden in case the light from a cigarette gave away the ship's position.

In the evenings, we'd carry our meals and meet on the top deck, bundled together in the darkness in whatever corner we could find. And though we were surrounded by thousands of others, we may as well have been as alone as two people on a private yacht. With all the lights off so that we could remain as invisible as possible to the enemy, we gazed up at stars so bright and unaffected by light pollution that more than once, Edward laughed when I tried to reach out and touch one. In the early mornings, we'd rise before the sun and meet on the top deck once more, arm in arm watching the sun rise from the waters like a goddess ready to rule her land, majestic rays shooting in every direction. And we'd give thanks.

No, there was no lovemaking on this part of our honeymoon, no private walks under the moonlight, no swimming in deep pools, no dining in glittering restaurants, and no dancing to the music of magnificent bands.

But we were returning home as husband and wife, and for that we would be forever grateful.

OOOOOOOOOO

Five days later on one of the first days of March, 1945, we arrived in New York Harbor.

As I gazed up at the majestic Statue of Liberty, the copper statue gifted by France to the U.S. with her lit torch held up regally, my stomach rolled with more unease than I'd felt the entire crossing. Soon, I'd be face to face with people with whom I hadn't parted with on the best of terms.

Edward and I had sent ahead telegrams, informing our families of our return to the U.S. Therefore, I had no doubt that they would be waiting once we debarked at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Up on deck with me, watching the ship pull into port, Edward slid his arms around my waist. I rested my back against his firm chest, wrapping my hands around his, trying to breathe in and out evenly. Crowded shoulder to shoulder with thousands of others on deck, he moved in and whispered in my ear, always knowing when I felt uneasy.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We've already made our plans, and no matter what happens once we're off this ship, we face everything together now," he tilted my chin upwards with his fingers, guiding my head sideways to meet his eyes, "as husband and wife."

I smiled, breathing easier when his warm lips brushed over mine. "Husband and wife."

Edward and I were among the last to get off the ship. I'd assisted in getting the sick and wounded ready for debarkation, and Edward remained to help as well. Once we walked away from the exit ramp, crowds were everywhere: wives, girlfriends, families – all eager to greet and welcome their returning loved ones before they were placed on the troop trains and sent off to Camp Kilmer for processing. From there, the men would be sent to reception centers for those on leave or furloughs, to separation centers for those who'd been wounded badly enough to be discharged, or to local personnel centers, for those being reassigned – like Edward.

We made our way through the crowded port quickly, busily reconfirming with one another the plans we'd made during the crossing. Therefore, I failed to spot the long, black Rolls Royce surrounded by the throng, or the small cluster of people scanning the area, eyes suddenly glued to us, until Edward made a sudden stop.

Brought up short, I looked up and into Esme's tear-streaked face, her eyes on her son as if she were seeing a heavenly apparition with which she'd never expected to be blessed again. Next to her, Carlisle stood pale and completely staggered, the hand he had on his wife's shoulder appearing more of a device to keep himself upright than a gesture of comfort. And though my eyes were on them, I didn't fail to see the commanding figure standing just behind: the tall, regal man in a dignified three-piece suit under a long, dark wool coat.

Esme took off running, pushing through the crowd of people caught between her and her son while Edward dropped his duffel bag and my own small suitcase to meet her halfway. And I stood frozen to my spot, watching her collapse like a marionette into his arms and sob uncontrollably. A few seconds later, Carlisle joined them, wrapping his wife and his son in weighted, outstretched arms which couldn't seem to hold on tightly enough before surrendering to his own racking sobs.

Only then did I allow myself to meet Papa Phil's waiting gaze.

Eyes locked on each other, we both took slow hesitant steps. When I stood before him, he looked down at me with an inscrutable expression, his features stern and unmoving, and I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if being on the _Queen Mary_ had distorted my memories of his appearance, flooded me with childhood images of my looking up into Papa Phil's strong, handsome young face, all-powerful and commanding as he ordered the ship's captain to reassure me that we would _not_ be sinking.

Now…the grey which Masen's death brought to his temples had traveled and spread beyond, even to his thick mustache. The slight lines around his eyes had deepened into true wrinkles and expanded to his cheeks and around his mouth, and I wondered how much of his aging was due to giving up on love as a young man, to losing the son he'd never acknowledged as an older man, and…to fearing he'd lost the daughter he'd once taken from another man.

"Papa..."

It was just one word, yet to this day, I honestly don't know what I meant to say after, whether I meant to offer words of deep remorse or exultant vindication. But it was as if that one word released something deep within him, some weight that had kept him burdened and saddled with the load of a million ancient faults. He expelled a long gust of air through his nostrils as if he'd been holding his breath for years instead of seconds, and every frozen muscle in his exhausted face seemed to go lax. Before I could say more, he'd reached out and pulled me into his tight embrace.

"Isabella…you're home." He stroked my hair. "You're home."

For a few moments, we just stood there, lost in our own thoughts, my arms at my sides.

"Where is Mother?" I said, pulling away and breaking the relative silence.

"She's home, waiting for us. Esme…Carlisle…all of us in one place after everything…" He shook his head.

I simply nodded. Someone's hand suddenly wrapped around mine, and I was consumed in another hug.

"Thank you, Bella." Esme wept on my shoulder. "Thank you. I…I just didn't know, and I'm sorry, and…" she cried.

"Shhh," I said, softly patting her back. "It's alright. He's back. We got him back. That's all that matters."

Edward carefully peeled his mother off of me, gently handing her back to his father. He then knit his fingers through mine and stood next to me as Papa Phil reached out to shake his hand.

"Edward…young man…we're truly glad to have you back."

Edward nodded. "It's good to be back, Sir."

"Bella," Carlisle said shakily, "we don't know what to say. Thanking you doesn't seem to be sufficient. Neither do any apologies or-"

"We were all so unfair to you," Esme said in a strangled whisper.

"I don't want thanks or apologies. I just wanted to find Edward." I shrugged uncomfortably while Edward kissed the top of my head.

"Yes, well," Papa Phil cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, his authoritative air once again on full display. "We definitely have plenty to discuss." He looked at Edward. "I'm sure that I can arrange for a few hours of leave for you so that we can all convene at our place, and you can spend a bit more time with your parents and Isabella before you're due at Camp Kilmer. We can also discuss your plans for the future, as well as Isabella's return to Seattle in a couple of months to resume-"

Next to me, I felt Edward stiffen. "Sir, we're-"

"Papa Phil…Edward and I are married."

It was as if I'd dropped my own bomb in the middle of this war.

Papa Phil's eyes grew wide, and the blood seemed to drain from his face. At the same time, there was a small gasp. Out of my periphery, I saw Esme reach for her husband's hand.

"Married?" Papa Phil repeated.

"Yes, sir. We're married," Edward confirmed, standing tall and proud. "We married a few days ago before we left London."

Papa Phil simply looked lost, like an actor suddenly finding himself without a script. "Married?"

"Papa Phil, I won't be returning to Washington in a couple of months. I'll be returning with Edward. He's been reassigned to Fort Lewis. We're going to get an apartment together off base, and-"

"Very well, very well," he frowned, as if he were desperately trying to remember those scripted lines. "We can discuss all that and-"

"Papa Phil…"

He swallowed thickly, and despite everything, my heart ached at the confusion etched in his features.

"Sweetheart, congratulations," Esme smiled. She moved in and wrapped me in another tearful hug. "I'm so happy for the both of you." When she turned back to hug her son, Carlisle moved forward and hugged me as well, offering similar sentiments. The entire time, Edward kept a tight hold on my hand.

Once the congratulations were over, Edward turned to Papa Phil.

"Sir, I…appreciate your offer to arrange for a few hours of leave, but as an officer in the U.S. Air Force, I've got Uncle Sam to heed for the time being. I'll keep in touch with my wife and inform her when I've been given the word to move on to Fort Lewis, which I expect will be in a couple of days. In the meantime, I ask you to please respect our mutual decisions. The rest I leave up to Bella."

Papa Phil simply stared at him.

Breaking their tense gaze, Edward turned his attention to me and smiled, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the floor with an anxious groan.

"I can't believe I've got to be separated from you again," I whispered against his warm neck.

"I know," he breathed, kissing my temple. "But it's only for a couple of days while they process me. Three at the most, I think."

"I'll telegram you and let you know exactly where I'm staying, and then you can let me know when it's time for us to leave."

He kissed me full on the lips then, soft tender brushes that made no concession for crowds or parents.

"I love you, Mrs. Cullen," he grinned crookedly.

"I love you, too."

OOOOOOOOO

After Edward's departure, the four of us remaining stood around awkwardly.

"Bella, darling," Esme finally said, breaking the edgy silence, "Carlisle and I were going to remain in New York until Edward's departure for Seattle, but since you'll be returning together, we'll just leave tomorrow."

"Alright, Esme."

"Isabella, may we speak privately for a minute?" Papa Phil asked, apparently having recovered the authority in his voice. When I nodded, he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me a few feet away.

"Papa Phil," I said before he could begin, "I have some savings, and I think it best if I-"

"Look, I know when you left for Europe, things weren't…very good between us. We said things to one another-"

"That's irrelevant."

"No, it's not. I won't apologize for being unwilling to send you over there."

"And I won't apologize for going. But neither do I want to argue, which is why I think it's best if I didn't return to the penthouse."

Papa Phil frowned, obviously unhappy with my defiance. Locking his jaw, he moved it from side to side as if uncharacteristically measuring his words. "Isabella, I _am…_happy for you. I'm just shocked you took that step without-"

"Without consulting you, Papa?" I finished, lifting a brow.

He sighed. "Isabella, my home…your mother's home, it will always be your home, no matter what. I realize that you're not a child anymore. And now as someone's wife…"

I placed a hand on his arm. "Papa, I appreciate everything you've ever done for me, and I do regret some of the things I said before I left."

He said nothing.

I sighed. "Nevertheless, from here on in, my decisions _have_ to be my own – mine and Edward's, as a couple. Can you accept that?"

He swallowed, eyes on mine.

"Can you accept that, Papa Phil?"

The Great Philip Dwyer - he'd once told me that his own parents had died from the worldwide Spanish Influenza pandemic when he was seventeen. From that day forward, his life had been his own, every decision had been his own, and he'd never looked back - no matter what. A lifetime of making every choice, every decision without looking back, without giving in, without concessions for anyone or anything other than himself. That was always his method for coping.

"I can try, Isabella; that's all I can promise. I will _try_."

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle and Esme returned to their hotel, and we promised to be in touch once Edward and I returned to Washington. I held no grudge; I truly didn't. But they were Edward's parents, and for the time being, I'd feel more comfortable around them when he was around. Yes, I'd grown and matured, and along with that growth had come the realization that no one, not even those I'd once held on a pedestal as infallible, actually were perfect. It was a fact I was still finding difficult to accept.

In the end, I returned to the penthouse with Papa Phil. Even though I was a married woman, I was still in a semi-state of limbo until the war was ready to let go of our lives.

I wish I could say I felt confident in the decision. I wish I could say that the reunion between Mother and I was worth my return.

She hugged me, her perfume strong and elegant, and for a heartbeat, she squeezed me so tightly, as if…

"Thank goodness you're home," she breathed. Pulling away, she smoothed down my hair, frowning as she bounced the shoulder length ends in her palm. "You've cut it."

"I found Edward, Mother."

She met my gaze. "So you did."

"We're married."

"I'm not surprised."

After a few seconds, I realized that was as much as I was to receive from my mother, and it was my turn to be less than surprised.

I called Charlie. With only a few, vague letters from me, he'd been lost and confused for the past few months. When Edward was found, I sent him a telegram along with everyone else, letting him know that Edward was alive.

Now, I told him we'd gotten married. Happy for me but still puzzled as to what exactly had transpired, we hung up with my promise that Edward and I would visit as soon as possible.

Edward called a couple of days later to inform me that we'd be leaving for Washington in the morning. I repacked my small bag and went into Papa Phil's office.

"What…" he began warily, walking around his desk towards me, hands deep in his pockets, "what are your plans once you arrive in Seattle?"

"Edward will be stationed at Fort Lewis, and we'll rent an apartment nearby."

"And how about your schooling, Isabella?"

"I…Well, I…"

"Bella, you're a married woman now, and I won't tell you what to do," he said carefully and slowly, removing his hands from his pockets to wrap them around my forearms. "But I do know that your education has always been important to you. Likewise, once this war is over, Edward is welcome to return to his studies under the Dwyer scholarship; though, that is also up to him. Yes, you're his wife, and I do know that you have…a father," his said, his voice atypically shaky, "but you can still count on me - both you and your husband."

"Oh Papa Phil…" This time, it was I who wrapped my arms around him. With deep, unsteady breaths, he held me tight.

"Little girl..."

"Papa," I sighed, "no matter what, you will _always_ be my Papa."

Afterwards, I found Mother in her room and informed her that I was leaving. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to take care of myself and to write.

It was the last time I ever saw her.

OOOOOOOOOO

On March 10, 1945, Edward and I departed for Washington. While en route, the Japanese landed a secret "fire balloon" over Hanford, Washington, a weapon built to make use of the jet stream over the Pacific Ocean and drop bombs on American and Canadian cities and forests. Fortunately, fire balloons were neither very accurate nor very effective. But in this case, this cheap little bomb had the luck of landing over the secret site of the "Manhattan Project," the project which would soon end this godforsaken war in a way that left no doubt as to what would happen if there was a third world war.

Nevertheless, the bomb didn't cause too much damage, simply a short circuit problem that backup safety devices resolved almost immediately, and the project continued without delay. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the U.S. was firebombing the cities of Japan, including Tokyo, reminding everyone in the world that though things in Europe may have been winding down, the war was still far from over.

Once in Seattle, Edward resumed his flying, except now he was flying over the fields of Washington State and the west coast, training new pilots before they were shipped to the Pacific Arena to fly the bombers he knew so well: the B-17 Flying Fortress and the new B-29 Super Fortress. We'd found a small apartment close to base. From there, Edward would depart early in the morning before the sun rose and return late in the evening once the sun was down. In the meantime, I resumed my volunteer work with the Red Cross.

"Sweetheart, you should see these Super Fortresses!" he told me as we lay in bed a few days after he'd returned to the skies, now as an Air Force pilot instructor. "They're bigger, faster, and can fly higher than the B-17 ever could. And they're pressurized so the fellows don't have to wear all that heavy equipment we've got to wear on the fortresses." His eyes took on a wistful, faraway look. "You could fly them in short pants if you wanted to."

In the evenings, we cooked and ate dinner, sharing our day with one another. He'd tell me how hard it was to be up there again, not because he was afraid, but because part of him – the part of him that still wanted to be the one to rid the world of tyranny - missed the actual war, missed being one of the men giving hell to the enemy rather than merely teaching new pilots how to give hell.

It was hard for me to hear that after everything that had happened, some part of him still yearned to be part of the fight, yet I listened without comment. Then I'd tell him of the men I'd see in the hospital wards missing limbs, lacking hearing, lacking sight, dying. He'd listen quietly as well.

We'd snuggle on top of our lone couch and talk about Masen, recalling our youth together, the good times we shared. We talked about Jacob. He'd tell me about Sebastian, the young Lieutenant who'd been his friend, fighting with him for the Resistance as they tried to make their way out of France – until they were both captured. He still wasn't ready to tell me everything; it would be years before he did. But every once in a while, something would slip out as if he simply couldn't hold it inside anymore, and I'd hold him and reassure him that this – our life now - was indeed real.

I told him of Leah, of her bravery and her humor and her incredible ability to love despite the world she lived in.

We read from Edward's journals. It had become a ritual - a sort of therapy for the both of us, reminding Edward of small details that the war seemed to have permanently taken from him, and reminding me that it was possible to have faith.

We listened to the radio together and discussed the latest events: the naval bases in Japan, which were being heavily bombed while Germany was attacked from all sides. You see, the U.S. and British armies had crossed the Rhine, and the Red Army had marched on Danzig, and now it was a race to see who reached Berlin first.

Then late at night, we'd lie in bed and spend hours and hours making love, exploring each other's bodies while finding new ways to please, new places to touch and kiss and pleasure one another, especially at those times when regular lovemaking would've led to conception. Condoms had become prevalent in the army over the past couple of years as a way to prevent so many sexually transmitted diseases at home and abroad, and with Edward on base, we had an unlimited supply. See, we'd decided I would return to school in September, as much for myself as for Masen, who'd been planning on studying veterinary medicine as well. We owed so much to so many who'd sacrificed for us, and we planned to repay them as best as we could.

It wasn't an easy time. With our busy schedules, we had few hours together. But after knowing the alternative, they were precious and cherished hours.

Some days were harder than others. Edward still suffered from nightmares. He'd wake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat and trembling, holding me so tightly as if he needed to reassure himself that I was flesh and blood. He'd enter me quick and anchor himself so deeply that I wanted to cry from both pleasure and from the guilt of knowing that it was his pain bringing me to such heights.

In early April, Edward returned from base visibly shaken. After dinner, as we lay in bed, he confessed he'd heard at the base of a camp that had been liberated just the day before. It was the camp in which he'd been held. I held him in my arms as he shook and relived nightmares for the rest of the night.

The next day, we both sat stunned together on our couch as we listened to the radio. FDR, our President of twelve years, the man who'd led our nation out of the depression and through a horrific world war, had died suddenly at his home in Warm Springs, Georgia.

The world was shaken to its core, saddened by the epic loss while Vice President Harry S. Truman, who'd only held the office for a few short months, was now being sworn in as our nation's wartime President.

I looked up at Edward, my arms wrapped around him as I nestled against his chest. "What does this mean for the war?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," he answered, kissing my forehead. "I honestly don't know."

By mid-April, it had become obvious that the Red Army would be the first to reach Berlin, so the Allies held back. Now truly insane beyond denial, the German madman, from his bunker deep within the bowels of Berlin, made a decision that all German Generals were neither to retreat nor surrender. Unfortunately for him, by this time, even most of his General's saw the futility in continuing the fight. Rank-breaking and disobedience reigned everywhere as the Third Reich completely collapsed, and the Red Army closed in on Berlin.

Meanwhile, in the streets of Seattle, people laughed and celebrated at the newspaper headlines depicting Benito Mussolini, the mad Italian dictator, shot and hung in the streets of Milan alongside his lover.

But all that madness was nothing compared to the events that were soon to follow.

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song: **_**It's Been a Long, Long Time**_** by Kitty Kallen with Harry James &amp; His Orchestra:**

_**Never thought that you and me  
Standing here so close to me  
There's so much I feel that I should say  
But words can wait  
Until some other day**_

_**Kiss me once, then kiss me twice  
Then kiss me once again  
It's been a long, long time  
Haven't felt like this, my dear**_

_**Since I can't remember when  
It's been a long, long time  
You'll never know how many dreams  
I've dreamed about you**_

_**Or just how empty they all seemed without you  
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice  
Then kiss me once again  
It's been a long, long time**_

**I'll try to get another chapter out late this week. If not, then see you next week!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	67. Chapter 66 - The End of All Ends

**A/N: Thanks so much for your continued wonderful thoughts.**

**Almost done…**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 67 – The End of All Ends**

**OOOOOOOOOO**

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill once said,

"…this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

He spoke those words on November 1942, after the Allied Victory at the second Battle of Alamein in North Africa. After a series of losses on the African battlefront, Allied troops, including my stepbrother, Corporal Masen Cullen, had finally pushed German General Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, "the Desert Fox," and his _Afrika Korps_ back to Tunisia. By then, Great Britain had been at war with Germany for over three years, while the U.S. had entered the war only eleven months earlier. If not the beginning of the end, this battle was certainly a turning point for the Allies' fight. Finally, there was a reason to hope.

The beginning of the end arrived a year and a half later on June 6, 1944, D-Day: the invasion of Normandy.

The end of the end was perhaps, not quite as simple to pinpoint. The end of the end arrived in different intervals, as part of a few separate events; each one larger and more epically climactic than the one preceding it.

On May 1, 1945, I left the hospital after a long, exhausting day of tending to the never-ending stream of wounded soldiers. Now, combat soldiers returning from the war usually fell into two categories of what was then known as _combat fatigue_: those who wanted to forget every moment of every second of the war by never speaking of it, and those who found it therapeutic to describe every moment of every second they'd spent in battle. My own husband fell somewhere in between, rarely speaking of his experiences during the day, only mentioning them late in the evenings under cover of darkness.

This particular day, I stayed late at the hospital, caught up listening to a story told by a Marine, who'd been hurt in early April at the Battle of Okinawa, an island where the Allies planned to set up base for air operations as they island-hopped on their way towards an invasion of mainland Japan. The soldier was soothed and comforted by expelling a gripping and terrifying story from which I and a couple of the nurses were unable to turn away, caught in masochistic fascination much as people are nowadays when watching a particularly gruesome news story on TV.

He told of an ongoing, fiercely intense air, sea, and land battle where Japanese airmen purposely crashed their aircraft into Allied warships, suicide attacks which they called _kamikaze._He told of Japanese soldiers who'd been indoctrinated to believe that dignity was in death and shame was in surrender, who'd been taught that blowing themselves up was preferable to giving an inch to the invading Allied armies.

He told of a civilian population for whom mass suicide was preferable to capture by those they'd been taught were demons coming to rape and plunder. He told of a Japanese army who used the Okinawan island's indigenous as human shields, using boys as young as fourteen in the front-lines, using girls to run into fields with broomsticks and machetes as weapons.

And as he told his horrific tale, we listened in stony silence, taking the soldier's hand, patting his shoulder, reminders – similar to those I gave my husband – that he was here, not there.

"I just don't know." The soldier shook his head, his eyes glazed as they stared unseeing at his hanging, casted leg. "I don't know how we're supposed to win a war against people who refuse to surrender, who'd rather kill themselves while wiping out as many of us as they can. How the hell are we supposed to win that kind of war before they kill God knows how many tens of thousands of us?"

At the time, none of us had the answer to those questions. At the time, the answer to those questions was being secretly perfected in highly-classified labs unknown to everyone except a very select few.

Despite the Marine's engrossing story, it wasn't long before I recalled that I was now a wife. The novelty of coming home to one another wasn't something that Edward and I were ready to take for granted. Still thrilled beyond belief that we'd not only found one another again, but that we'd actually _married_, I'd wait up for him every evening regardless of how late he'd come home. As for him, he'd walk through the door agitated as if he'd run the whole way, as if he'd won the lottery and had been told the prize awaited him at home. Throwing aside his jacket and cap, he'd pick my feet up off the floor and kiss me soundly until I was as out of breath as he. And I'd laugh and bury my face into his neck, all the while thinking to myself: "My God, he's alive! He's alive and he's home!"

Sometimes, we'd eat dinner. Sometimes, our hunger for more than mere food would win out, and my feet wouldn't even touch the ground before he laid me on top of our bed.

But yes, most evenings, Edward would be home late, which is why when I rushed down the hospital steps that afternoon of May first and looked up to see him waiting for me, I stopped in surprise.

He was still in his flight suit, his dark leather bomber swung over his shoulder, side cap on with dark aviators shielding his eyes. A group of lower-ranking naval officers saluted him as they passed, and he answered their salute while still training his eyes in my direction. When a couple of young, nursing cadets strolled by offering him coquettish smiles and giggles, he still didn't turn away.

And when he pulled off his glasses and our eyes finally met, the dark and somber expression in them made my breath catch. With slow and wary steps, I reached for his extended hand. His thumb tilted my chin upwards, and he brushed his lips over mine.

"How was your day, sweetheart?"

"Busy. And yours?"

"Busy as well."

When he offered me a faint smile, my brows knit together.

"What is it, Edward?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"No." My stomach churned.

Not three weeks earlier, FDR had died leaving everyone wondering how his replacement, Truman, would pick up the reigns in the middle of a worldwide war. Yes, in Europe, the Third Reich was collapsing, but as the soldier inside the hospital had just reminded us, in the Pacific, the fighting was only beginning to intensify.

Yet all that took a backseat to what had become my biggest concern now that Edward was back.

"Oh God," I choked, "not Alice."

"No." Edward rushed to reassure me, pulling me into the safety of his arms. "No, Bella. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Alice is fine. We received a letter from her just yesterday, remember? She's in Germany, and she's fine."

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, we did."

He kissed the top of my head, pulling back. "I didn't mean to make you think something was wrong. It's just…" his nostrils flared, "if it's true, then I hope he's rotting. I hope his goddamned soul is rotting in the deepest pits of hell."

"Edward, what is it?"

A furious fire burned deep within his irises. Silently, he led me to the convertible, which we were supposed to be sharing, yet he always managed to leave for my use. After helping me into my seat, he crossed over to the driver's side, but instead of driving us home, he played with the radio dial, settling on a news report.

"…_reporting for the BBC, interrupting our program to bring you the news they're reporting:_

_This is London calling. Here's a newsflash. The German radio has announced that Hitler is dead. I'll repeat that: the German radio has announced that Hitler is dead."_

"What?" I turned bewildered eyes to Edward, but he kept his eyes on the radio, turning the dial and stopping whenever we heard that madman's name mentioned.

"Could it be true? Could he really be dead?"

"That's what they're saying. Whether it's true or not remains to be seen."

"But _how_?"

"I don't know, love." He took my hand and threaded our fingers together, kissing my knuckles. "All I know is what you and I just heard. But if it _is_ true," he squared his jaw, eyes flaming, "if he's really dead, then I hope it was painful. I hope he screamed in agony. I hope he begged and pleaded, and I hope the burning fires of hell lapped at him before he took his last godforsaken breath."

He shook with rage, and a sob tore through me so unexpectedly that I clamped a hand over my mouth. Not because I was frightened, not because I pitied the man or his soul, not even because of the shiver that Edward's candid, unreserved hatred sent racing down my spine.

It was the eyes of those people…eyes I'd seen one day that both seemed like yesterday and a century ago…wide, frightened eyes staring through slits of wooden cattle cars on a train rumbling and heading to a place I'd never truly be able to fathom…eyes that would forever haunt me on their way to a place that would forever haunt my husband.

Edward pulled me out of my seat and situated me on his lap, and I fisted the back of his shirt tightly, molding myself into him.

"I hope so too," I whispered thickly into his neck, "I hope he burns too."

OOOOOOOOOO

Whether it was a painful death or not, I suppose no one will truly ever know.

On the last day of April, 1945, Hitler took his own life – his and that of the woman he'd married the day before, while they hid in a bunker under the city he'd once sworn to protect above all.

Meanwhile, the Red Army laid siege and destruction upon Berlin.

We heard about it everything on the radio the following morning while Edward and I sat at our small kitchen table having breakfast. It was the topic of conversation throughout the day, and when we both returned home, the radio gave us the latest updates while _The Seattle Post_ lay open on the table before us:

HITLER DEAD, NAZIS DECLARE; WAR GOES ON, SAYS NEW CHIEF

"Those bastards!" Edward banged a fist over the table. "First, there's not even proof that the monster really is dead. Second, he leaves his navy admiral in charge to continue the war!"

His chair scraped hard across the floor, and then Edward furiously stormed to the window, stiff shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, his palms lay flat against the window frame. Walking to him, I wrapped my arms around his back.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. "I get so…I'll calm down, I promise."

"Shh." Pulling his shirt out of his pants, I placed my palms on the skin of his smooth, firm stomach, feeling his muscles tighten and contract under my touch. I brushed my lips over the grooves of his spine. "Feel your anger, Edward. Don't be ashamed of it. Don't hide it from me."

"It's just…if it wasn't…if it wasn't for this war," he whispered shakily, "Masen would still be here…and Jacob…"

"And Sebastian and Leah, and _so_ many others…." I sighed, closing my eyes. In the background, Harry James and his orchestra played on. "He has the blood of millions on his hands, and we're allowed to be angry, and to grieve for them."

OOOOOOOOOO

After that, the German capitulation proceeded like the downward collapse of a domino chain.

Within the next two days, the Battle for Berlin ended when German General Helmuth Weidling, commander of the Berlin Defense, unconditionally surrendered the city to Soviet General Vasily , Admiral Doenitz, the new German President ordered all U-boats to cease operations. German troops in Denmark, Northern Germany and the Netherlands surrendered to British Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery.

Within five days after Hitler's demise, formal negotiations for Germany's unconditional surrender were taking place in Reims, France.

Back home, we hoped, prayed, and held our collective breath.

Despite everything happening worldwide, Edward and I still had our own lives to lead. We were newlyweds experiencing all the joys and nuances that went with that, even as the world around us prepared to shift and change once more.

While Germany's Generals agreed to stipulations they would've never dreamed of during their height of glory, Edward requested a weekend pass, and we went home to Forks – for Edward, it was his first time home in almost three years.

Esme and Carlisle had already visited us a couple of times in Seattle, but we had yet to see Rosalie and little MJ since our return. Jasper had come down to Seattle a few weeks earlier, taking time from the Canine War Processing Center to see Edward with his own eyes, eyes that ended red-rimmed as he and his best friend greeted one another like the brothers they'd once been. Together, they mourned the missing member to their trio and forgave one another's missteps. Jasper had left the bottle far behind, and now he spoke proudly of his job and passionately about missing his wife, hoping and praying that with the end of the war in Europe upon us, Alice would be returned quickly.

We arrived in Forks and parked the car on the gravel. After opening the door for me, Edward gazed nostalgically at the home where he'd grown up, where he'd fought and played with his siblings and dreamed of fighter planes and glory. I, however, turned and gazed at our evergreen, who stood as tall and majestic as the first day I'd seen her, as magnificent as the night when Edward held me against her trunk and put his warm lips on mine for the first time.

I heard him sigh next to me before feeling his lips against my temple. "Everything looks the same," he murmured in my ear, "as if time has stood still here."

A soft, sweet giggle interrupted our quiet reverie, followed by a familiar bark. Edward and I turned back towards the house where a few feet away, Rose stood holding a little copper-haired boy's hand. The boy looked between his mother and us, a child's wooden train car clutched tightly in his free hand, and my Sandy sitting impatiently at his side. She walked slowly to me.

"Hey girl!" I hugged her to me as she licked my face with the same enthusiasm with which she'd done so for the past eleven years. "I missed you too."

"Look Mama!" the boy exclaimed. "Sandy knows them!"

"Of course she knows them, darling," Rose chuckled. "Sandy is their dog. Do you remember your Aunt Bella?"

Little MJ took a few curious steps closer, a familiar line of deep thought forming between his miniature brows.

"No, Mama. I don't remember."

I crouched down in front of him. "You don't remember me because you haven't seen me in almost a year, but you and I used to be great friends, and we used to play with Sandy and with your trains."

"Really?" he asked, blue eyes widening.

"Yes," I chuckled, tapping his miniature nose. "Really, MJ."

He seemed surprised that I knew his name, turning his eyes back to his mother, who smiled encouragingly. Turning back to us, his ensuing smile made my heart ache. So familiar.

Next to me, Edward had been silent. I took his hand and pulled him down.

"MJ, this is your Uncle Edward."

"Uncle Edward?" MJ repeated, the Dwyer line between his brows reappearing. "He played trains with me too?"

"Well, no, you were only a few days old the last time you saw him," I smiled. "He's been…away."

MJ's blue eyes scanned Edward's uniform, attracted by the various medals decorating it. With all hesitation evaporated, he reached out a small, chubby hand and fingered the gold cross hanging from Edward's left lapel.

"Mama has a medal like this in our room." He gasped with the excitement only a young child could possess. "This one too!" He fingered the Purple Heart. "Mama says no, no – don't play with them, MJ!" he informed us, shaking his head with childish solemnity, "cuz Daddy got them for protecting us before he went to heaven." His blue eyes met Edward's evergreen ones. "You protected us the way my daddy protected us?"

I didn't have to look at Edward to feel the emotion rolling off of him. When he answered, I could hear it in his voice.

"Yeah, MJ. Yeah, I tried my best to…"

When he trailed off, unable to finish, I squeezed his hand.

"Then you're a hero like my daddy!"

Instead of answering, Edward picked up MJ, evergreen eyes glistening. "Your daddy was one of the best men I've ever known, and if I'm even a tiny bit like him…then I'm a lucky man indeed."

MJ seemed to find this response acceptable. "Uncle Edward, do you want to play trains with me?"

"Sure, MJ. I'd love to."

And as uncle and nephew walked into the house, Rosalie and I followed.

OOOOOOOOOO

Leaving Rose, Carlisle and MJ to catch up with Edward in the living room, I went in search of Esme, following the mouthwatering scent of baking into the kitchen and found her standing near the counter.

"It smells delicious," I said. Moving closer, I spied her working on a cake.

She looked up at me and smiled before returning to her work, spreading a rich, brown frosting all around the cake.

"It's for you and Edward, in honor of your wedding. I remember you once said you'd want chocolate cake, and well…" she met my eyes softly, "we couldn't be there, but we still wanted to do something to show you…to let you know how happy we are." She returned her eyes to the cake. "Now, we had to replace a few of the ingredients because of the rationing, but I used the very best chocolate, and it should be just-"

I wrapped my arms around her, resting my head in the space between her neck and shoulder.

"Thank you, Esme."

We'd had a rough patch, Esme and I. Yet she had been there for me through so much, not with expensive gifts nor constant reminders of what I should've been aiming for, but with affection and concern and much like Papa Phil, with reminders that no matter what, even when we didn't agree, she'd always be on my side.

OOOOOOOOOO

After dinner and our scrumptious chocolate cake, Rosalie and I sat on the porch steps while Edward, Jasper and little MJ worked off their meal over a game of tag. At first, our conversation was careful and stunted.

"It's hard to look at him, but I _am_ happy he's returned, Bella," she finally said, "and that you two get to live out your lives…"

It hadn't been a year since the day when I chased the reverend's car to the house, praying the entire way that the telegram being delivered bared anyone's name but Edward's. I knew the things desperation made you wish and pray for.

But I couldn't apologize for getting Edward back.

Instead, I took Rosalie's hand, threading our fingers while we gazed at the shadows of her son and his uncles that the fading light through over the grass.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

"You had your own life to take care of, Bella. Your heart told you that Edward was alive." Her golden hair shone in the twilight, the sudden rays highlighting the melancholic smile playing across her beautiful face. "My heart told me that Masen was gone. At the time, we were in no shape to be there for one another, so I apologize as well." Her blue eyes met mine. "I'll always miss him," she breathed, a silent tear rolling down her cheek, "and I'll always love him. But we were young, and a war came along. Yet despite everything, he didn't leave me alone." Her eyes returned to her son, and she smiled. "He left me the best piece of himself."

She squeezed my hand, and together, we watched our men until the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

OOOOOOOOOO

On Sunday morning, before leaving Forks, we attended church in town, where we prayed for the matters taking place in Europe and for a quick resolution to those matters in the Pacific. Afterwards, we stood outside, where everyone was thrilled to see Edward, tall and handsome in his uniform. They shook his hand, they clapped his shoulder, and they stared at him as if he were Lazarus returned from the dead. Understandably, the town had been riveted by the story of his return after being believed KIA.

And understandably, all the attention made Edward deeply uncomfortable.

Those who didn't know better questioned him on the details.

"Edward, my boy, so how was it that they thought you were dead?"

"Where were you all that time?"

"Hiding with the French Resistance? So why'd it take you so long to get home?"

"A camp? What sort of camp were you in? What'd they do to you?"

By the time the conversations turned to congratulations on our marriage, Edward was more than ready to leave. We said our quick goodbyes and got into our convertible, speeding away.

But instead of taking the main road which would eventually lead to Seattle, Edward turned onto a familiar dirt road from where we could hear the quiet whispers of the river's stream growing into gurgles. He turned off the car.

"I just…I needed some fresh air after that."

"That's understandable, Edward." I rested a hand over his thigh, squeezing. "They're all just curious. They don't mean any harm."

"I know," he grinned ruefully, resting a hand on the door handle. "Come on, sweetheart."

He helped me out of the car, and hand in hand we walked to where the river's gurgles became roars of white water, across cool grass and in between green and brown canopies of trees and the brush of colorful flora. The soothing sounds of nature echoed all around us.

"There's still a bit of a nip in the air, which is why I hadn't brought you here until now."

"I don't mind a little nip," I smiled up at him, "especially when you're here to keep me warm."

He pulled me close and led me to the playground of our youth, where time indeed did appear to have stood still. I saw the girl and boy we were during our childhood splashing in the river, sitting by the footbridge, and teaching a sweetly disobedient puppy to sit and stay.

At the river's edge, Edward spread his jacket on top of the mossy blades of grass, laying me over it before covering my body with his own, warm lips quickly on mine. I sighed, lost in his kiss when he began unbuttoning my dress, encouraging him with the way my body shifted under him, with the way I smoothed my hands up and down his back before moving them to the front of his trousers.

"Not too cold?" he asked, his mouth leaving a trail of moist kisses from my jawline to where my shoulders were now bare to him.

"No," I breathed, releasing him from the confines of his trousers. "Not too cold at all."

"Good, because I've always wanted to make love to you here by the river where we first touched and explored, or under the evergreen tree where I first kissed you." His mouth found my breast, and I hummed like the wings of a butterfly. "Or in my old bedroom at my parent's house where I dreamed of making love to you every night, or in your bedroom at the Dwyer house, where you slept every summer just across the footbridge, and I hoped you dreamed of letting me love you."

I chuckled while his fingers skimmed between my thighs. "So basically, anywhere and everywhere."

He snorted, pulling down my panties, pushing his trousers below his knees. "Basically."

My body sang when he pushed himself inside, and I arched my back closer to the rare, blue sky, wrapping my legs around his hips to pull him in. "Take me, Edward," I whispered into his ear while his groans mixed and mingled with the sounds of the forest. "Take me anywhere and everywhere."

Our hips met and swayed with the give and take rhythm we'd perfected in the past few months. When he flipped us over so that his back was on the grass, I sat up and let him fill me, my hair a curtain cocooning us in this place that had always been our heaven and our haven.

He cradled my face in his strong hands while I mimicked the motions of the undulating river.

"You're my woodland nymph," he said reverently, evergreen eyes the color of the leaves surrounding us, piercing my heart. "My perfect, beautiful woodland nymph."

I cried out as I drowned in his perfection, next to the river that had saved me and kept me afloat. And soon after, my name left his mouth in a rushed breath, proclaiming our love to the sky where it would be carried in the wind for our wonderful woods to always remember.

OOOOOOOOOO

Afterwards, I nestled against his chest, listening to his heart rate return to normal. He'd laid his jacket over me now while we talked and kissed and planned for a day beyond the war.

"He looks so much like Masen."

"He does," I agreed.

We listened to the birds calling to one another, to the river's waters flowing peacefully.

"It's funny…how nature works."

"What do you mean?"

"He looks like Masen. He's got his hair, Mama's hair, my hair, but…he looks like his grandfather as well."

His eyes met mine, one hand curved around my hip while the other stroked my hair. He liked it long, so I'd been letting it grow again.

"You see it," I said.

He kissed my forehead. "Of course I do."

"Will you ever tell them you know?"

Evergreen eyes locked on mine. "I don't think it's much of a secret, Bella. I used to wonder why…the way your stepfather looks at my mother…" He sighed. "I think it's part of the reason I won't ever be easy around Peter. I wouldn't be able to stand him looking at you that way for the rest of our lives."

I moved up higher so that I could brush my lips over his, and then I rested my head on his shoulder.

"But no, we won't speak of it aloud," he answered. "Maybe you and I, and Rose…it's up to her now what she tells MJ when he's older, but I don't see the rest of us ever talking about it. Masen was my father's son, and MJ is my father's grandson."

I nodded. "Papa Phil…he won't interfere. Out of respect for both of your parents, he won't ever interfere."

Edward drew in a deep breath. "Then that's his decision. I hope he can live with it."

OOOOOOOOOO

On Monday morning, despite a lack of official confirmation, all four major radio stations announced that Germany would be signing her unconditional surrender that day, effective at midnight. We went to work vibrating with barely repressed excitement, anxious for that elusive official word. That evening, it was announced that Truman would address the nation the following morning at nine a.m. Eastern War Time.

On the morning of Tuesday, May 8, 1945, Edward and I sat in bed listening to President Truman announce our victory in the European theater.

"_This is a solemn but a glorious hour. I only wish that Franklin D. Roosevelt had lived to witness this day….the flags of freedom fly over all Europe…"_

He then went on to remind us that we had to stick to our posts until the last battle was won – the battles still awaiting in the Pacific.

"It's over," I breathed, in shock despite the past few days' announcements. "At least in Europe, it's finally over." I thought of lost family…lost friends.

"Shh." Edward laid us back down on the bed, turning me over so that he could spoon himself around me, his warm breath on the nape of my neck. "It's alright, sweetheart. In the end, it'll be alright."

Papa Phil called later that afternoon and told me that New York City was celebrating with parties and confetti in the streets, every inch of Times Square packed with civilians and soldiers laughing and crying.

In Seattle, celebrations remained mostly muted. Edward went to work at Fort Lewis, training young men for their scheduled departures towards the islands of Japan. The hospital ward remained packed with the wounded and dying and with the promise of many more once all manpower turned to the war in the Pacific. In Seattle, sidewalks weren't packed with uninhibited sailors kissing overjoyed nurses. There was no confetti floating through the air.

Edward returned from base that evening with a bottle of champagne he'd been given, and we had our own celebration, making love, giving thanks, and praying harder than ever for a quick resolution with Japan.

OOOOOOOOOO

With V-E Day's celebrations behind us, demobilization began in the U.S. and Britain. With millions of troops serving in the European theater, the U.S. began "Operation Magic Carpet," sailing victory ships, liberty ships, troop transports and ships packed with British war brides back from Europe.

Then came the dreaded Advanced Service Rating Score.

Troops with enough points were prepared for discharge, while those without enough points were prepared for duty in the Pacific.

In mid-June, Edward returned home from base with his assigned ASR score.

"I've got enough points for discharge," he informed me over dinner.

"Well, I should hope so," I said. "You served almost two complete tours in Europe, and with your combat awards and overseas points, I would think you'd have more than enough."

"I do, but…"

Sighing, I set down my fork. "But what, Edward?"

"My COs tell me I'm too much of an asset at this point to be eligible for discharge, especially with the invasion of Japan just around the corner…"

My lungs constricted. "They're not considering sending you to the Pacific, are they?"

"No, sweetheart," he smiled gently, pulling me out of my seat and situating me on his lap – the way he often tended to do during dinner. "I'm not going to the Pacific. The Air Force is going to once again be on the front-lines of this fight, and I'll keep on training our boys…from right here with you."

"Where you belong," I said.

"Where I belong," he agreed.

OOOOOOOOOO

"She's coming home, but not to stay," I murmured dismally one evening about a week later.

I stood in the kitchen in my black silk slip and with my hose clipped to my garter, holding the telephone receiver to my ear. We'd been getting ready for a night out at one of the Officer's clubs when the telephone had rung, and Esme gave me the news. Edward stood before me with his tie still undone, his hair freshly washed and disheveled.

"She doesn't have enough points. She'll be home within a few weeks, but then they're sending her to the Pacific."

Edward closed his eyes and sighed heavily, sliding his arms around my waist. "I was afraid of that, but I didn't want to worry you." He kissed my temple. "Ask Mama how Jasper's holding up."

Esme heard and answered Edward's question.

"She says he's devastated, understandably. He'd been hoping and praying…"

"We all hoped and prayed, and I guess we'll have to keep on hoping and praying."

While I continued my conversation with his mother, Edward pressed comforting kisses around the rest of my face, the corner of my mouth, softly trailing to my neck and collarbone. His hands molded around my breasts before wandering to my hips and backside, pulling me in closer.

"Alright, Esme. We love you too. We'll see you soon."

I hung up the telephone and gave myself over completely to my husband's soothing hands and mouth.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ironically enough, while some didn't have enough points or weren't given the option for discharge, some voluntarily requested reassignment to the Pacific.

Around the same time that we received Alice's news, Edward received a letter from Mac informing us that, with more than enough points to pick his own destiny, he'd be among the first to be sent home from the European Theater. From there, he'd volunteered for reassignment to help with the invasion of Japan. In a few weeks, he'd be given furlough, and with no family to come home to, he'd be visiting us as he awaited his orders.

And Peter…I'd heard through Papa Phil that he'd requested reassignment to Japan as well.

We celebrated Edward's twenty-third birthday on the twenty-second of June - a Friday - at the rooftop restaurant in the Sorrento, reminiscing about our first time there, the evening when we'd first made love. Afterwards, Edward took me out on the dance floor.

"Mr. Cullen, how _do_ you move like that?" I teased, my arms around his neck while he cradled my waist between his strong hands. "You're twenty-three, practically an old man!"

"An old man, am I?" He crooked a brow before abruptly dipping me low and keeping me there.

"Pick me back up! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I laughed.

He pulled me up as unexpectedly as he'd dipped me. "Would an old man be able to hold you like that?" His hand on the small of my back, he pulled me in impossibly closer, molding our bodies together. "Feel that?" he whispered in my ear. "Would an old man feel like that against you?"

I chuckled huskily. "There's plenty of things you do to me that an old man wouldn't be able to do."

His mouth found mine. "Mrs. Cullen," he breathed into me, "sometimes, you've got the devil in you – and I love it." His eyes held mine, swaying me slowly around the room. "And sometimes…sometimes I do feel very old indeed. Sometimes I feel as if I've lived twenty lifetimes, as if I've seen so so much…too much." I cradled his cheek in my hand, and he swallowed. "But most of the time, especially since we married, I see so much still ahead of me. I see a lifetime full of possibilities, full of so much I want to see and feel and hold." He squeezed my hips. "And greedily enough, I plan to use my entire lifetime in which to do just that."

"We're both greedy then."

OOOOOOOOOO

We lay in bed that evening, recovering our breaths after one of his birthday presents. Edward guided my chin upwards and quirked a questioning brow at me.

"How about you, Bella? You'll be twenty-one in a few short months, officially an adult – and a loaded one at that. You know that's the only reason I married you."

I snorted at his teasing reminder of what Mother had once said, one evening long ago.

"Seriously, sweetheart, have you given any thought to what you're going to do with that big wad of dough you'll be getting in a few months?"

I reached up and played with his soft hair, smiling at the tenderness in his eyes while remembering another evening years and years earlier.

_I was eight years old. Mother and Philip Dwyer had just married a couple of weeks earlier. This particular night, I woke up crying – bawling to tell the truth – frightened by a nightmare that now I can't recall. Awaking in a large, four poster bed inside a huge, imposing bedroom which I barely recognized didn't help matters much._

_Now, Dad was usually the one who'd come to me when I had nightmares. But I suppose being newly married, Mother had to play the part. She and her new husband rushed into my room, and she took a seat on my bed, picking up my hand._

"_Goodness, Isabella!" she exclaimed, wiping away my tears. "You've made such a mess of your face! What is all this about?"_

"_I miss Dad," I sobbed. "I miss Jacob and Uncle Billy. I miss-"_

"_Isabella, stop this nonsense," she chided. "You'll see your father soon enough!"_

"_Renee," the man my mother had now married said, standing behind Mother and placing one hand on her shoulder. "The child is frightened. This must all be very confusing for her."_

_I recall Mother tilting her head sideways to meet his gaze, bestowing upon him one of her beatific smiles, the ones that dazzled every man she'd ever encountered._

"_Isabella, darling, you'll see your father soon enough." Her smile morphed from dazzling and beatific to one of those smiles I've mentioned before, those that weren't really smiles at all. "He's insisted on continuing to be a part of your life," she said as if it were a bad thing, "and your new father…and I…have concluded it's probably best to allow it."_

"_When can I go see Dad again?" I asked._

_Mother's jaw tightened. "I don't know, Isabella," she snapped, unable to completely mask her impatience. "Soon, darling. In the meantime, look at all the beautiful things you now have with which to entertain yourself! Why, look at that magnificent dollhouse, and those dolls and that pony and goodness, all those pretty dresses!" Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with so much joy it made me want to cry all over again. Then, she reached up and wrapped her diamond-studded hand around the hand Philip Dwyer had on her shoulder. "And when you grow up, when you reach your twenty-first birthday, your stepfather has generously set aside a gazillion dollars for you! Isn't that wonderful?"_

_Well, she didn't actually say gazillion, but the number she did say was so astronomical to me at the time that she may as well have said it._

_I nodded, because I knew that's what she wanted me to do._

"_There," she grinned, patting my hand. "Isabella, darling, from now on, there will never be a day, a moment in which you'll wish for something you can't have."_

_And with that, she leaned forward, placed a quick kiss on my forehead and walked out of the room, her rich perfume leaving a trail of roses and jasmine in her wake._

_Philip Dwyer stayed behind. When she was gone, we stared at one another._

"_Isabella, I know you must be feeling…disoriented by all that's occurred in the past few weeks."_

_He paused, as if waiting for me to say something. "Yes - yes, sir," I stammered, just as Dad had taught me to do when addressing adults._

"_Don't the dolls and toys make you happy?"_

"_No, sir."_

"_The dresses?"_

_I shook my head._

"_Hmm, strange," he frowned. "I have a daughter about your age, and when she's upset, I buy her some trinket or another and all is soon forgotten. In my experience, I've found that trinkets tend to make women happy…well…most women. How about the trust? Doesn't that make you happy?"_

_I kept staring at him, at this tall, regal man with the thick, black hair and black mustache, unable to tell him that I had no idea what a trust was._

_He sighed. "Isabella, you_**_will_**_see Charles again, I give you my word. I know we don't know one another very well yet, but you'll come to see that when Philip Dwyer gives his word, he keeps it."_

"_Yes, sir."_

_He frowned yet again. "In the meantime, perhaps…perhaps you can start calling_**_me_**_Papa…Papa Phil instead of 'Sir.' Perhaps that will make you feel better?"_

"_Yes, sir. I mean…yes, Papa Phil."_

"_There you go," he grinned, his dark mustache twitching as his mouth lifted on either side. "Isabella, I will_**_always_**_take care of you, no matter what," he said vehemently, "not just with toys and dolls and trusts but the way I wish I could…well...good night."_

_He turned to leave, pausing just by the door one more time and turning to give me a smile, one of those aforementioned ones, yet it wasn't forced or fraudulent like Mother's, rather it seemed to hide something very sad…and so melancholic._

"That's…a sad story," Edward said, staring up at the ceiling while playing with the length of my hair, "for both you and your Papa Phil."

"Yes, I suppose. But my point is…" I waited for his eyes to meet mine. "much of what Papa Phil has given me…was rightfully someone else's."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. The man and I may not see eye to eye, but he does love you, Bella."

"I know," I smiled.

He studied me carefully. "You know anything you decide is fine with me, right?" His voice was low and soothing. "If you want to blow all the money on cars and a big place," he grinned, "I'll help you enjoy them. If you've got other plans…well…whatever you want, sweetheart."

OOOOOOOOOO

These were the things that filled my head that summer of 1945, in the waning days of the war, while we all awaited the final resolution. I busied myself with thoughts of Alice, Edward, Mac, Papa Phil, MJ, the Trust, School.

And everything else in between.

On July 26th, the Empire of Japan was issued an ultimatum by President Truman, warning them of "the inevitable and complete destruction of the Japanese armed forces and just as inevitably the utter devastation of the Japanese homeland," should the empire not concede its unconditional surrender.

The Japanese Empire ignored the warning.

At home, we prepared ourselves for another year or two of war, for more loss, for an invasion that promised to cost an exponentially larger number of lives than the invasion of Normandy had cost. We waited for Alice and Mac's…and Peter's reassignments to Japan.

In the first week of August - Monday, August 6, 1945 - to be exact, I took the morning off from the hospital so that I could register for my third year of college. Smiling up at the rare, yellow sunshine, I looked forward to walking the school's halls once more, to a new beginning.

The line ahead of me was long, but the radio playing in the background kept those of us waiting entertained with the morning soaps, with the latest billboard hits.

"_Ladies and Gentleman, we bring you the White House with a special announcement from the President:"_

The low hum of voices in the registrar's office, asking about classes, requirements, and prerequisites, went suddenly silent.

"_Sixteen hours ago, an American airplane dropped one bomb on Hiroshima and destroyed its usefulness to the enemy. That bomb had more power than 20,000 tons of TNT."_

Confused gasps went up in the air.

"_It had more than two thousand times the blast power of the British "Grand Slam" which is the largest bomb ever yet used in the history of warfare._

_The Japanese began the war from the air at Pearl Harbor. They have been repaid many fold. And the end is not yet."_

We all looked at one another, bewildered.

"…_It is an atomic bomb. It is a harnessing of the basic power of the universe. The force from which the sun draws its power has been loosed against those who brought war to the Far East…"_

"What's an atomic bomb?" one girl asked.

President Truman went on to explain about the bomb's production facilities and employment history, and we were still left wondering what exactly _was_ an atomic bomb. He further announced that if Japan didn't accept our terms of surrender now, then they could "expect a rain of ruin from the air the likes of which the earth had never seen."

I was still puzzled when Edward arrived home that evening without his signature grin. He didn't lift me off the ground the way he usually did, nor did he carry me straight to bed so that we could lose ourselves in one another for hours and hours.

Instead, he met my eyes with an unfathomable expression, dropping heavily onto the couch and pulling me down over his lap. I curled myself around his trembling body.

"What is it, Edward? What does it all mean?"

He pulled me away, his eyes dark and somber. "It means it's all over…or will be soon…in a few days at most."

"But that's good, isn't it?" I asked, unable to repress the hope in my voice. "It means Alice and Mac and everyone else can come home."

"Bella…sweetheart…this isn't just a very large bomb, and it hasn't simply destroyed factories or military installations. The aircraft that dropped it…it was a B-29," he swallowed, "the _Enola Gay,_ she's called, and this bomb…it's destroyed the entire city, women and children, all gone in an instant. Initial estimates of casualties are in the _hundreds_ of thousands - dead, Bella, not wounded. And more will die from the after effects."

"After effects?" I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep the bile down, all the while shaking my head. "No, Edward. No, my love. You must be wrong. We couldn't have done that. We _wouldn't_ do that. Not to so many innocent people."

"Bella…it was a matter of them or us. We could. We found a way. And we did."

OOOOOOOOOO

On the heels of the bombing of Hiroshima, Japan was issued another ultimatum, yet despite the horrific results of the day before, unconditional surrender was something the Empire still refused to agree to.

At 11:02 a.m. on August 9, 1945, the B-29 _Bockscar_ dropped a second atomic bomb over Nagasaki, Japan. The explosion generated heat estimated at 3,900 Celsius, and initial casualty estimates ranged from 22,000 to 75,000 dead.

At home, we lived like stunned zombies, walking around without being able to fully grasp the horrific consequences of what was occurring. Almost four years of war had left us jaded, the attack on Pearl Harbor still a painful and mortifying memory. The fear of losing more of _our_ boys, _our_ people to this war overshadowed the horrors of what we were learning about these "atomic" bombs, this new age of weaponry.

Burning.

Radiation.

Years of after effects.

And yet another bomb was being prepared, being readied in case Japan continued its refusal for unconditional surrender.

As the days passed, panic began settling within me, twisting my insides, filling my head with so much dread and fear and hopelessness that I'd lie awake in bed, unable to close my eyes, staring at the ceiling and picturing all those dead men, women and babies…thousands upon thousands of MJs running around crying, the skin burned off of their backs and faces.

Edward held me in his arms in our bed while I tossed and turned, finally sitting up, nauseous from my thoughts.

"What kind of world are we in now, Edward?" I cried quietly. "Yes, the wars are ending, but what good will it do us if we're left with a world we can't even bring children into? If we can harness this…terrible new power and use it against our enemies, what assurance do we have that it won't someday be used against us?"

"Listen to me," he said, cradling my face in his hands. "There are no assurances, you and I know that better than many. But there's hope, Bella. There's _always_ hope. We found one another again when the entire world decreed that we wouldn't. And while that may only be a miracle to you and me, if a small miracle like that is possible, who's to say larger miracles can't happen?"

I held his gaze tearfully. "A miracle like what?"

"Sweetheart," he smiled, stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, "you have always had so much hope, so much faith. Since you were a little girl dealing with a self-involved mother and two fathers who didn't know quite how to care for you. Don't lose your hope and faith now. Maybe…maybe the miracle will be that we'll all learn a lesson from this, not only from these bombs, but from this entire war. Maybe…it can all be a warning…to future generations."

"What if it's not?"

"Then we hold on to hope, Bella, for as long as we can – the way you always have…the way you've taught _me_. And maybe _that_ can be what we take from this."

I sighed, nestling into his warm body, and when I felt his strong heartbeat, when I felt his strong arms around me, I knew that anything was possible…as long as he was with me.

"We'll hold on to hope."

The same day that we dropped the second bomb, the Soviet Union invaded Manchuria, and…well, I suppose that Japan learned a lesson – its own warning from Hitler's folly.

On August 14, 1945, Emperor Hirohito broadcast a public speech announcing his plans to surrender to the Allies.

"…_Moreover, the enemy now possesses a new and terrible weapon with the power to destroy many innocent lives and do incalculable damage. Should we continue to fight, not only would it result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization."_

The end of the end had arrived. The Second World War was finally over.

As for Edward and I…

Well, for us, the end of the end was...the beginning of our beginning.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**One more chapter and an epi. :)**

**Sentimental Journey (1945) – Doris Day with Les Brown &amp; His Orchestra:**

**_Gonna take a sentimental journey_**_**  
**_**_Gonna set my heart at ease_**_**  
**_**_Gonna make a sentimental journey_**_**  
**_**_To renew old memories_**


	68. Chapter 67 - True Beginnings

**A/N: I'd like to thank you all for your continued thoughts. Please know how much they all mean to me even though most of the time I can't get back to you all. They're all read with lots of smiles and gratitude. :)**

**So this chapter was supposed to be the last chapter before the epilogue, but it grew too long. I had to cut it in two. The second half of this chapter will post next week.**

**Thanks so much for sticking with me for this long. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

**Chapter 68 – True Beginnings**

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 8, 1945**

"It's coming! It's coming!"

"Do you see it, MJ?"

"Uhuh, uhuh, Uncle Edward! I see it! I see it! Choo Choo!"

Perched atop his uncle's broad shoulders, MJ gave us his own version of a blowing whistle, craning his neck and angling his small body for a better view over the crowd packed into Seattle's King Street Station that afternoon.

"Choo! Choo!"

Having spent much of my childhood crossing the country from one coast to another, the object chugging along in the distance wasn't unfamiliar, yet it still fascinated me all the same. While hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the wheels' steady movements, I craned my neck along with them and MJ and watched the grey puffs of steam billow from the train's smokestack, swirling into the cool winter air. The train's whistle blared once more, a foghorn guiding weary travelers back home, and the voices of eager families and friends rose up to mix and mingle with it.

"Is she on the train, Uncle Edward? Is she? Is she?"

"I sure hope so, MJ, or Uncle Jasper may take off running all the way to New York."

MJ's sweet, childish giggles filled the air while a few feet ahead, Jasper shot Edward a hasty scowl before resuming his watch so close to the platform edge that his toes jutted over it. Storms in the northeast had delayed the train by a day, leaving Jasper's mood for teasing nonexistent.

Next to me, Esme shook with nervous energy.

"What if she missed the train?"

"She would've called," I smiled patiently.

"With those storms, what if she couldn't get a hold of us?"

"Esme," I began but was cut off by another loud whistle, this one announcing the train's arrival into the terminal. Pulling in, the cars' wheels rotated rapidly and then without warning decelerated when approaching the platform, like the hooves of a hundred horses suddenly crossing the finish line. It was a cold, blustery day, yet dozens of soldiers hung out of the windows, whooping and hollering.

"Which car do you think she's in?" Esme wondered.

"Let's find out."

Jasper was now running down the platform, eyes desperately peering into every train window, and Edward took up a brisk walk behind him, MJ on his shoulders, squealing in delight.

"Uncle Jasper, wait for us! Faster, Uncle Edward! Faster!"

Meanwhile, I pulled Esme along, following Jasper and my husband. When the train doors finally opened, all manner of troops and military personnel spilled out, ushering a bedlam of sprinting boots, howled names, and waving hands in search of loved ones.

We were no exception, with Jasper elbowing and shouldering his way through the throng while Edward mumbled hasty apologies behind him as he pushed past the sea of bodies in front of us. He reached back for my hand, keeping his other one firmly on MJ's waist to prevent him from toppling. I kept my hand tightly around Esme's, maneuvering her through the frenzied crowd.

"Do you see her?" she asked, out of breath. "Jasper, Edward, do you see-"

"Alice!"

We stopped in our own tracks and watched Jasper shove past a group of enlisted men towards a smaller group of female officers just stepping out of the train. The one in the middle of the lot looked wonderfully familiar with her short black hair, tall slim figure, and blue eyes as fixed to Jasper as his were to her.

"Jasper!"

"Alice! Alice!"

Rushing past everyone between him and his wife, Jasper reached out and lifted her off the ground in an embrace so all-consuming that for a moment, she disappeared within his arms.

"Alice! Oh, Baby! Alice!"

"Jasper! I love you, Jasper! I love you!"

He stroked her hair, his lips everywhere all at once.

"I love you too, Alice. I love you, too. You're home. My God, you're finally home," he choked. Then, cradling her face, he growled, "Listen to me, Mary Alice Cullen Whitlock, you're _never ever_ leaving my side again, you hear? I don't care what happens. You're never-"

When she crashed her mouth to his, the rest of Jasper's words died away. And with chuckles and sobs, Alice responded to his command.

"I won't. Never again. I promise, Jasper. Never."

She kept that promise.

OOOOOOOOOO

The declaration of Victory over Japan in August of 1945 meant that the War Department was left with a wartime military numbering over 12 million and with a new priority of reducing this number by ninety percent. Though a significant number of soldiers were left in Europe or deployed to the Pacific for occupation purposes, the larger number were, over a period of almost two years, returned to the U.S. for deactivation.

Hospitals now also cut back on their Red Cross volunteers. Though somewhat saddened to be told I wouldn't be needed any longer, it also meant that the wartime wounded would soon be going home. Besides, by September, I'd returned to the University of Washington for my third year of college.

A week after Alice's return, I was preparing dinner while I waited for Edward to arrive home. The _Philco_ was on in the background, and I flipped the chicken while trying to correctly guess one of the questions on _Information Please._

"_We interrupt this program for news from the Nuremburg Trials, the military tribunals being held by Allies to prosecute war criminals in Nuremburg, Germany."_

Setting down my spatula, I walked to the radio that sat on top of the refrigerator and turned up the volume dial.

"_Today, Josef Kramer, Commandant of the Bergen-Belsen Concentration camp, also known as "The Beast of Belsen" by camp inmates, was hung on the gallows in Hamelin, Germany, a town once best known for the Pied Piper tale. Kramer and ten of his gang were found to be responsible for the deaths of thousands, including Jews, gypsies and others. They met their fate today at the hands of the British Executioner, Albert Pierrepoint. We now return to your regularly scheduled program."_

Dropping down on one of the kitchen chairs, I closed my eyes. Since they'd begun last month, the Nuremberg Trials had been the topic of conversation everywhere, reminding us that though the war was over, its repercussions would be felt world-wide for years…perhaps for generations.

The scent of burning chicken brought me back to my senses. I reopened my eyes and jumped up, turning off the burner. Then I turned off the radio.

Edward arrived a few minutes later while I was bent over the sink trying to scrub the scorched pan clean.

"That's…an interesting odor," he chuckled as he walked to me and slipped his hands around my waist, kissing my neck before peering over my shoulder. "Are we trying something new for dinner?"

"Yes. Sandwiches."

He laughed, burrowing his face into the crook of my neck, warm breath tickling me.

"Or we could just skip dinner altogether…" he murmured. As he turned me around in his arms, I wrapped my arms around his neck and quirked a brow his way.

"If we keep skipping dinner, Esme's going to start thinking I'm not caring for you the way a proper wife should."

He smirked, flipping us around so that his back rested against the sink. "You, Bella Cullen, put every other wife to shame with _all_ the ways you take care of your husband."

"I've got to feed you once in a while too, though." I played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "We can't live on love alone."

"Watch us," he breathed, leaning in and molding his lips to mine before parting them with his moist tongue. Slow or urgent, Edward's kisses were always fueled with passion, yet there was something different in this one - an additional sort of excitement, an extra thrill.

"What?" I smiled, pulling away, breathless. "What is it?"

Pulling back a bit, Edward reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pink telegram that instinctively made my breath catch in my throat - a reflex after years when telegrams were the instruments of horrible, personal news delivered in the most horrible and impersonal manner. It took me a couple of seconds to remember that the fighting had ended and that almost everyone I loved was now home.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Edward apologized. "I keep doing this to you. It's not bad news," he stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers, "I promise."

"Then what is it?"

"Take a look," he grinned.

Plucking the telegram out of his hand, I warily scanned its contents, my anxiety dissipating with every word until the growing smile threatened to split my face in two.

"You're being discharged," I breathed. "As of December thirty-first, you're being discharged."

He nodded. "Colonel Stanton wasn't all too happy about having to deliver those discharge papers. He offered me a permanent position as part of the Fifth Air Force, which will be the occupying air force in Japan. As my wife, I'd be allowed to bring you along. There'd be no combat missions," he said clearly, "just straight occupation duties such as supply and food drops for the starving population and reconnaissance flights. Plus, the money would be good between basic pay, flight pay, overseas pay and no income tax or social security deductions."

I swallowed. "And what did you say?"

"I said…I had to discuss it with my wife and see what she wants. I need to know what you want, Bella."

Pressing myself against his strong chest, I slid my arms around his narrow waist, kissing the space over his beautiful heart, a heart that would always feel a need to protect and defend.

"What I want is right here, beating strong and healthy." He tilted up my chin with his finger, warm evergreen eyes searching mine. "As long as it stays that way, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. And if the skies still call to you, I won't try to change that. I told you that once, a long time ago, and I still mean it."

Drawing in a deep breath, he cradled my face in his strong hands. "Bella…I'll always dream of my time up in those bombers. There are things that bring it all back daily, like the crisp, clean morning air which puts me right back at that airfield in England. Or sometimes, when I dream that the cold chill is seeping into my bones, I'm back in that hut with nine other men, scared as hell but laughing and joking through it all. Or when we're in a crowd with the hum of eager voices, it transports me into that mission room right before a sortie. And the sound of an engine turning always makes me hear the _Woodland Nymph's_ engines roaring to life, ready for another mission. It was hell, Bella, yet despite everything that happened, I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Is that your decision?"

"Well..." he swallowed, "I wouldn't trade it, but…that part of my life, I'm ready to put it behind me, Bella. I'm ready to put this whole god damn war as far behind us as possible."

"Then what do you want, Edward?" I smiled.

He kissed me softly, his eyes boring into mine when he pulled back. "I want to come home to my wife every night and make love to her and feel her silky head resting on my chest afterwards. I want peace and quiet. I want…I want to finish school," he said carefully. "I know it'll be hard for both of us to be in school at the same time, but with the new G.I. Bill, the government'll pay for college _and_ provide me with a monthly stipend, and I can get a part-time job in the evenings to supplement it. I'll make things as easy for you as possible, Bella. I swear it."

"Do you think you have to _convince_ me, Edward?" I chuckled, hope now blooming in my heart. "Is that what all this was about? Edward, I wouldn't care if we had to eat cheese sandwiches every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then live in a one room shack - as long as we're together! Besides, I know we agreed not to touch the trust unless it was absolutely necessary, but if we had to…and you know, if you want to go back to school, Papa Phil-"

"I appreciate your stepfather's willingness to help, but I think I'd rather do this on my own. And the trust…it's there to fall back on if we need to, but we'll be alright, Bella. I swear we will."

I was so full of happiness, I feared my heart would burst with it.

"And when you finish school, what do you want then?"

His lopsided grin speared right through me, just as it had since the very first time I saw it. His fingers wrapped around a few strands of my hair, and he pushed them back, his mouth following to the space just under my ear.

"After we finish school…I want to go home…to Forks. I want to make babies with you and end all the peace and quiet. I want the perfect end to this story. I want all of it…with you."

OOOOOOOOOO

On Christmas Eve, 1945, we gathered at the Cullen home in Forks for the first time since Alice's wedding in the summer of 1941. That had been right before Pearl Harbor, back when we were all young, innocent children with no idea of how our lives were about to be changed by the greatest conflict the world had ever known.

It was a bittersweet reunion. We weren't all there. We would never again _all_ be there. There would always be one missing. Yet we honored Masen by making the most of these lives for which he'd given his, and by giving thanks that despite all that had occurred, we were _together_ to honor him.

Before lighting the national Christmas tree, President Truman gave a message from the White House:

"_This is the Christmas that a war-weary world has prayed for through long and awful years. With peace comes joy and gladness. The gloom of the war years fades as once more we light the National Community Christmas Tree. We meet in the spirit of the first Christmas, when the midnight choir sang the hymn of joy: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."_

At midnight mass, we said a prayer for all the soldiers world-wide: those home already, those on their way home, and those who would be remaining in Europe and Japan as part of their occupation. We said a prayer for the millions and millions of people who'd been taken away from us during this six-year war. We said a prayer for General George Patton, who, despite being involved in controversy during the war for slapping two war-weary soldiers suffering from what would one day be classified as PTSD, had led allied units to victory in North Africa, France and Germany. He'd died unexpectedly three days earlier, from injuries sustained after a car accident.

And we prayed for our Masen.

The next morning, MJ let out a yelp of delight when he opened the new Lionel train set that Edward and I gave him. Meanwhile, Sandy lay quietly and peacefully by the Christmas tree, a small smile playing on her aged, hairy face as if she knew, she _sensed_ in that canine way of which Jasper had always told us, that most of her family was finally back together.

Before Christmas lunch, I stepped out onto the porch, where the brisk winter breeze bit at my skin and energized me at the same time. The air smelled of pines and bark with a faint hint of dry grass and frozen river water and a mountainous air that no store-bought candle nowadays can replicate. The snow-capped mountains stood majestically before me, filmy clouds circling them like halos. And my evergreen…tall and proud stood stately with her wide branches blanketed in millions of snowflakes. I sighed at the almost overwhelming feeling of peace that suddenly engulfed me.

Rose sat on the porch swing, gazing out at the same sight with a smile on her face. I took a seat next to her.

"Masen is watching us today," she said. "I can feel him in the mountain air."

"I feel him too," I whispered, the peace that had abruptly surrounded me now making complete sense. "Do you want me to-"

"No," she said softly. "He's here for all of us. Do you hear MJ laughing in there, how happy he is? It's having all of us together, and Masen would've loved that." She turned towards me, her beautiful face more serene and tranquil than I'd seen it in…a long while.

"It's also the train set," I grinned.

"Yes!" she chuckled. "Thanks so much for that beautiful train set. He'll treasure it for years."

"You're welcome, Rose, but…" I angled myself sideways to hold her gaze, "there's one more…gift that Edward and I would like to give MJ. I'm not sure how to…"

Rose narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to one side.

"We'd like to establish a trust for him, and it may seem presumptuous and arrogant of us, but-"

"Bella," Rose shook her head, "you don't have to do that."

"But we'd like to. Rose…I…I…"

I swallowed, having no idea how to approach the topic.

Rose reached out and took my hand, threading our fingers together while a gentle smile played across her beautiful face

"Bella, you have nothing to atone for here - _no one_ does," she added. "Life is full of twists and turns, and sometimes…things aren't so straightforward. You and Edward are the best aunt and uncle my son could have, and I'm grateful for all the care you give him. That's all I want, for my son to know he's loved, and it's all Masen would've wanted."

"Perhaps…." I finally said, a rogue tear sliding silently down my cheek, "perhaps we can set up a college fund for him…for when he's older? It can sit in the bank, and you can decide later. And it's not atoning," I assured her quickly. "Please, at least think about it. You've got about sixteen years until he's college age anyhow."

Rose laughed out loud - a light, airy sort of laughter. "Oh Bella, you'd be surprised at how quickly time goes by with these little ones!" Then she sobered, patting our joined hands. "Alright, I promise I'll think about it over the next sixteen years. And…_thank you,_" she squeezed my hand.

Then she looked out at the winter landscape and smiled as if she were seeing something…someone only there for her eyes.

And in 1960, when Masen Cullen Junior went off to study medicine at Dartmouth College, Rose did allow us to help. After all, by then, she had two other children to put through college.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, Alice and I squeezed into the tire swing under our evergreen, giggling like the two little girls we'd once been, so ready to share the world with one another.

"This feels tighter than it used to," I pointed out with a grin. "You and Jasper making them babies already?" I teased.

"We're working on it!" she laughed. Our feet moved in perfect sync, propelling us backwards and forwards to a slow, steady rhythm.

"Gus is coming home."

"Is he really?" I asked excitedly, so glad that the sweet dog had survived the war, and thinking of how happy Sandy would be to see her Alsatian friend.

"Yes, but Jasper and I have decided to allow him to remain with his handler. They've been through a lot together."

"I understand," I murmured.

"It was so…hard over there, Bella. But I don't have to tell you." She met my eyes. "You saw some of it."

I simply nodded. I would never burden her with the knowledge of exactly how much I'd seen.

"I suppose we'll all have nightmares for a long, long time," she sighed.

"I suppose," I breathed. "But God-willing, they'll pass, and we'll be left with a lifetime of memories - more good than bad."

"You've always had such a way of looking at things," she said softly. "Bella…I want to thank you for what you did for Jasper while I was gone."

I snorted, looking down at our feet displacing the white, delicate snow. "I did nothing other than dig into Papa Phil's deep pockets. The rest was all Jasper. He found his own way."

"No, Bella, no. It was more than that, and I want you to know that…" When she started crying, I pulled her into my arms, and she laid her head on my shoulder, just as we'd done since we were little girls. "When I heard about Masen and Edward…it made me realize that we'd lost too much, and I couldn't lose Jasper as well. And he was there for me through letters full of love and encouragement because _you'd_ helped him find his purpose."

I shook my head. "It wasn't me. He found his purpose for himself…and for you. Like I said, I had nothing to do with it."

She sighed, her eyes sweeping the landscape, watching the sun set behind the mountains and cast a maroon glow over Cullen lands - rays like fingers on the hand of God bestowing a blessing over us all.

"You were right all those years ago, Bella. I did need something else, and I broke both Jasper's and my heart searching for it. Yet as horrible as the war was, it taught me what's really important, and I'm ready now." She drew in a deep breath, and her blue eyes sparkled in the fading light. "I'm ready."

I hugged her to me. "I love you, Ally."

"I love you too, Bella, my sister-at-heart."

Mary Alice Cullen Whitlock remained my sister-at-heart until nine years ago, when on June 15, 2005 her eighty-three-year-old heart gave out. She left behind her husband and four children, your cousins Millie, Susie, Kathy, and Jasper Jr.

Jasper Senior joined her five years later.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward and I lay in his childhood bed that Christmas night of 1945, kissing and talking into the late hours after having quietly and carefully fulfilled his teenaged fantasy of making love to me there.

When the dark skies began to make way for bands of orange and scarlet, he kissed my bare shoulder and adjusted the warm blankets under them.

"Get to sleep, sweetheart. We have a busy couple of weeks ahead of us, and we've got to leave early tomorrow if we're going to make the afternoon train to Chicago. Charlie will kill me if we miss it."

I snuggled closer to him under the sheets, resting my head on his chest. "We won't miss it. I'll be up early. You're the one who likes to sleep in."

"That's true, especially when I've got your warm, naked body next to mine."

I chuckled. "Papa Phil has fixed his schedule so that he can meet us in Chicago for dinner one afternoon and save us the trip to New York since Mother is spending the holidays in the Caribbean anyway."

"Mm," Edward mumbled, not quite verbalizing what I knew he was thinking.

"No matter what, she's still my mother."

"I know that, sweetheart," he said softly, pressing his lips to my temple. "I know."

OOOOOOOOOO

Months of happiness turned into years of joy. Oh, we had our ups and downs, of course. No life is ever perfect. You're advancing and charting along on the path of life, and then there's a roadblock or a fork in the road.

Edward and I both attended the University of Washington. When the time came, Edward focused on the gifts he'd always had in science and math and decided on the Engineering program. The war had brought an explosion of industry to Clallam County, with the need for better roads and infrastructure now a major priority. And this is where Edward planned to concentrate his efforts upon graduation.

In November of 1946, at age 12, my beautiful, faithful Sandy took her last breath.

MJ cried with me when we buried her in a small, green field not too far from the evergreen where she'd so often kept me company, just a short walk from the river where she'd played as a puppy. When Edward and I first married, I'd debated bringing her to live with us, but by then, MJ had fallen in love with her.

Blurred by tears, my eyes scanned the woods and saw her everywhere: running around bushes, hiding behind trees, refusing to sit when commanded.

"It's alright, MJ," I assured him, kneeling to his eye level. "Sandy is in heaven now, where nothing can ever hurt her again."

His little chest heaved with broken sobs. "Is she with my daddy?"

"Yes," I smiled through my own tears, picturing the sight. "Yes, she's playing with Masen in a river made of clouds, where they'll wait for us until we're very, very old and ready to join them."

OOOOOOOOOO

Major Emmett "Mac" McCarthy was among the last of the military to leave Europe.

In June of 1947, he showed up at our door in Seattle unannounced and unexpectedly. He stayed with us for a few months, but like most young men of that generation, he'd seen too much, done too much, and now, he had a raging beast in his heart that left him breathless in the middle of the night.

"Mac, you know you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you want," I assured him one morning as he threw his duffel bag over his shoulder. "You don't have to leave if you're not ready."

He gave me a grateful smile. "Thanks, Bella, but…I need to get away."

Mac wandered up and down the west coast for a couple of years, keeping in touch through letters and occasional phone calls, working odd jobs. In November of 1949, he showed up at our doorstep once more, thin with a scruffy beard covering his jawline and dark circles under his eyes.

"They signed a treaty in Germany today," he said over dinner one night. "They call it the Petersberg Agreement, and it's supposed to increase the rights of the German federal government and decrease those of the occupying forces."

"It's been four years since the war ended," Edward said. "It's a step towards giving Germany back its autonomy."

Mac shrugged. "Why don't they just give'em back all their autonomy right now?"

"They want to do it slowly," I said. "Little by little to give the German government a chance to-"

Mac shook his head. "Do you know we're officially _still_ in a state of war with Germany? It's being maintained to give the victorious nations of the war a reason to maintain a military presence in Germany." His chair abruptly scraped across the table.

"This goddamn war's never gonna end," he muttered as he walked out.

Of course, he apologized afterwards and was ready to leave again, but neither Edward nor I were ready to give up on Mac. After some cajoling, we convinced him to join us in Forks for our annual Thanksgiving visit.

"Afterwards, you're welcome to come stay here while Edward and I fly east to visit my dads."

By then, Mother had taken to traveling almost constantly, yet she couldn't seem to find her way to the west coast, and she was always away when I traveled to the east coast.

Mac chuckled. "Thanks, Bella. I'll…I'll see."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Momma, Pop, this is our good friend, Mac," Edward grinned, introducing a freshly-shaved and decently dressed Mac to his parents.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir, Ma'am," Mac said rather nervously.

"And this is my sister-in-law, Alice," I said, taking Mac by the hand and walking him over to where a hugely pregnant Alice sat by the fireplace with her husband and one-year old daughter, Millie, by the fireplace.

"Please, Ma'am, don't stand on my behalf," Mac said sheepishly when he saw Alice attempting to raise herself off of the couch.

She chuckled. "It's wonderful to meet you, Mac. Edward and Bella have told us so much about you!"

"Don't believe half of it," he grinned.

While he shook hands with Jasper, seven-year-old MJ bounded into the room.

"Aunt Bella, Uncle Edward, you're here!"

I hugged and kissed our nephew, and Edward ruffled his hair affectionately.

"MJ, this is my good friend, Mr. McCarty. We go way back."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. McCarty," MJ said respectfully, the way he'd been taught. "Were you in the war with my uncle?"

"Yes, I was," Mac answered.

"Did you know my dad?"

"No, little man, I didn't have the privilege," Mac replied gently, "but I heard he was a great man and soldier."

MJ gave him a pleased and approving nod.

"MJ, why don't you give Mr. McCarty here one of those strong handshakes of yours?"

MJ put out his hand, and Mac met it, pretending to shake off the pain as he pulled back his hand and knelt in front of MJ.

"That is one great handshake you've got there, little man! Who taught you how to put all that strength and muscle behind that handshake?"

"I did," both Edward and Jasper replied in unison.

"No, you didn't. I did."

"No, I'm pretty sure I did."

"You're both wrong. I taught it to him," Carlisle said.

"Why don't you tell them the truth?" I gave MJ a wink. "Your Aunt Bella taught you."

The room erupted in laughter.

"You're _all_ wrong," a feminine voice spoke up, walking into the room from the kitchen. "His momma taught him how to give a proper handshake."

The sudden stillness in Mac was obvious, at least to me, and I couldn't blame him. Rose was beautiful, even in the simple, blue dress she wore that day, white spots of flour scattered on the dress like polka dots and in her golden hair like an early snowfall.

"Mac," I smiled, "this is my sister-in-law, Rose. Rose, this is-"

"Emmett, Ma'am," Mac murmured, his eyes intently on Rose's face as he took the few steps towards us where she'd come to a stop. "Emmett McCarty, at your service."

Emmett McCarty was a man who'd been looking for _something_; though, I suspect he hadn't even known what until that very moment. And Rose…

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. McCarty," she murmured in return.

Rose was ready, I suppose. Ready to open up her heart and help a soldier full of nightmares, a soldier, who'd survived the war that had taken her husband, finally rid himself of darkness.

Five months later, Rosalie Hale Cullen became Rosalie Hale McCarty, and for Mac, the war finally did end.

She told me one day, a few years later, that Mac's nightmares hadn't disappeared overnight, just as Edward's hadn't, and neither had mine. But the responsibility and beauty of being a husband to Rose and a father to MJ had slowly pushed out the beast that had taken up residence in Mac's heart. Mac now became the one to whom MJ went when learning how to shake hands, when learning respect and discipline from a man, when needing to hear the words that a growing boy needs to hear, when learning how to treat a girl properly, and when needing…a father.

The three of them had one of the most loving, tender family relationships I've ever seen. They had two more boys, your cousins Robert and Henry, and their family grew to five, but I never once saw Mac treat MJ with any less love than he treated his other two. He reminded me much of my Papa Phil in that way.

My beautiful Rose passed away of complications from pneumonia in 2007, at the age of 85. She'd outlived her second husband by ten years and asked to be buried in the family plot just over the hill, between where a cross had been erected for Masen in 1944 and where Emmett also rested now. She and Emmett lived their entire marriage in a pretty house in a development that had been constructed in Forks in 1950, not too far from the house where Edward and I lived for a couple of decades, before things changed for us as well...

OOOOOOOOOO

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song:**

**Near You (1947) by Larry Green:**

_**There's just one place for me, near you**__**  
**__**It's like heaven to be, near you**__**  
**__**Times when we're apart, and I can't face my heart**__**  
**__**Say you'll never stray, more than just two lips away**_

_**If my hours could be spent, near you**__**  
**__**I'd be more than content, near you**__**  
**__**Make my life worthwhile, by telling me that I'll**__**  
**__**Spend the rest of my days, near you**_

_**I'll spend the rest of my days…near you**_

**So, next should be the last chapter – really. ;) And then…the epilogue. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile.**

**Thanks guys. See you next week.**


	69. Ch 68 - Remember: True and Loyal Hearts

**A/N: Thank you all, truly, for all your thoughts, and for being so wonderful and patient with this story. It's been a long ride, over a year! But we're almost done. Final chapter below, and the epi will post either tomorrow or Monday. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.**

**Chapter 68 – Remember: True and Loyal Hearts**

**OOOOOOOOOO**

In the spring of 1950, Edward completed his college degree, and I completed my vet degree.

He lined up a job with the Clallam County Office of Public Works, and I took over the vet practice from Carlisle. With an interest-free loan and no down payment courtesy of the G.I. Bill, we bought our first home in Forks: a modest yet perfect house with white siding, blue shutters, and three decently-sized bedrooms. It sat on enough land for our new puppy, Max, to run around without getting into too much trouble.

I remember standing outside and gazing up at our new home, just Edward and me with Max running around us in circles and Edward looking down at me with a proud smile on his handsome face.

"Are you happy, Bella?"

I slid my arms around his waist and grinned. "Do you even have to ask?"

Yes, we were very happy.

But, as Edward and I and millions of other people around the world had learned a few years earlier, things tend to occur when you're blissfully in the middle of living out your perfect plans.

On June 25, 1950, two weeks after we'd moved into our new home, North Korean forces, supported by the Soviet Union and China, invaded U.S. occupied South Korea. Korea, once ruled by Japan, had been divided and occupied since the end of the war, and now, neither government recognized the other as the legitimate government. North Korea's aggression was declared an act of war, and U.N. forces, led by the U.S., immediately retaliated, an action which triggered concerns of a _third_ world war looming on the horizon.

In July, our doorbell rang during breakfast, and Edward went to answer it. When five minutes turned to ten and he hadn't returned to the table, I went looking for him.

I found him by the door, shoulders stiff, face ashen. He made no movement when he heard me approaching or when I leaned in to read the letter clutched in his hand.

"They're calling you back into service? Can they do that?" I asked in disbelief. "You're a married man now!"

"Bella, I've finished college, and it says they need pilots with experience on B-29s and B-26s to train the new boys."

"No," I breathed, defiantly shaking my head. "No, Edward! We were done with this! We were done with _war!_"

He drew me flush against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, a furious fire burning through me.

"I don't know if we as a nation will ever be done with war."

"But we have so many plans," I choked.

"I know," he said in a pained voice, pulling away enough to meet my eyes. "But Bella, if I've learned anything, it's that we can't put our lives on hold. It won't be like last time, sweetheart. I promise. I've served my time overseas, and I'm _not_ leaving you – not anymore."

"It wouldn't be just me you'd be leaving," I blurted and then bit my lip.

A vertical line formed between Edward's brows. He tilted his head sideways, a question clearly spelled out in his narrowed eyes.

"What do you mean it wouldn't just be you?"

"I mean…" I whispered, locked in his piercing gaze. "I mean we're having a baby, Edward."

There was a stillness in him I'd never before seen, like the chiseled statue of a Roman God suddenly made flesh. After a few seconds, he drew in a sharp breath and slowly reached down, splaying his hand over my flat stomach, the warmth of his palm seeping through my skin. I wondered if the tiny being growing inside me felt the heat of his touch.

"A baby?"

I nodded, eyes on his. He gaped at me.

"Edward?" Cupping his jaw, I stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Are you alright, my love?"

"A baby," he murmured. "God, Bella…a baby."

"Yes, a baby. Edward, I know we discussed waiting until the end of the year to begin trying in earnest, but if you'll remember, we christened a few of the rooms our first couple of nights in the house, and well…we weren't very careful, and I suppose these are the things that happen."

He continued staring at me, perfectly motionless except for the hand that circled ever so slowly and gently around my stomach that I wasn't even sure he was aware he was doing it.

"Say something, Edward. I know the timing is a mess now, and I don't know how we'll-"

When he picked me up and crushed me to his chest, I gasped aloud.

"Jesus, sweetheart!" he laughed. "We're having a _baby_?"

"Yes, Edward!" I grinned. "A _baby_!"

Pulling me back, he buried his face in my hair. "We're having a baby! You and I…my God," he sighed. "Bella, please don't worry; we'll figure things out. No matter what happens in the world around us, you and me…" he exhaled, chuckling quietly as his voice quivered with excitement, "we're having a baby."

OOOOOOOOOO

In the fall of 1950, Edward and Mac were both reactivated into the U.S. Air Force, both stationed at Fort Lewis in Seattle. Rose and I were both left waiting, once again, for our men to come home.

Edward was right, though. Aside from the fact that he was now in Seattle while I was in Forks, it wasn't as bad as during the previous war. He was home every moment possible, his hands constantly on my stomach, feeling it grow, feeling the life we'd created together kick and squirm inside me. He made sure that everything that needed to be done around the house was done, and he made love to me as passionately as he had before I grew so big.

The pregnancy itself went smoothly.

On New Year's Eve, 1950, Mac and Edward were both home on holiday leave. With young children and growing toddlers running around and with Rose, Alice and I all expecting on varying due dates, Esme and Carlisle hosted our New Year's Eve celebration.

At 11:50 p.m., we crowded around the _Philco_ and listened to the crowd cheering around the Times Square Ball in New York City.

At 12 a.m., we kissed, hugged, and cried to the haunting melodies of _Old Lang Syne_, thinking of loved ones lost during a war still in our recent memories and praying for all those involved in the ongoing Korean conflict.

At 12:01 a.m. on January first, 1951, Edward drew me into his arms as closely as he could manage and carefully danced me around the living room to the late Glenn Miller's _Moonlight Serenade_, one of our favorites since our first dance together at Rose and Masen's wedding in 1940. His nose skimmed up and down the side of my face while he quietly hummed in my ear, and blissfully happy in his embrace, I barely registered the strange warmth trickling down my leg.

Someone tugged on the back of my dress. Nine-year-old MJ moved in, not even having to get on his tiptoes to reach my ear, and whispered,

"Aunt Bella, I think you forgot to go to the bathroom."

My eyes followed his down to my damp stockings, and then I looked back up at Edward.

"But it's not time; you still have about a month to go." He pointed out, sounding more than a little panicked.

Most of what occurred over the next thirteen hours is now a hazy blur, but there are parts that are still clear: Edward's anxious, evergreen eyes; Edward carrying me up the stairs, and Esme closing his childhood bedroom door soundly in his face.

Now, after hours upon hours of pushing, the child appeared too comfortable and snug inside my womb to want to leave. Dazed and exhausted by contractions continuously slamming me, I could barely manage to open my eyes anymore.

"She's exhausted, and it's affecting her ability to push," Esme whispered at one point. "If we don't start making progress, we'll have to call for an ambulance."

"That might be a good-"

Urgent knocking interrupted the conversation going on around me.

"Rose, Momma, is Bella okay? I don't hear her yelling or screaming anymore."

Silence.

Urgent knocking morphed into furious banging. "Rose, Momma, let me in!"

I heard the door creak open. "Edward, darling, I know you're concerned, but you'll have to wait downstairs. Bella is having a difficult time pushing, and your anxiousness will only- Edward!"

"Esme, leave him. If anyone can help her find her strength, it's him."

The next part is perfectly clear in my memory. Despite the agony ripping my insides to shreds, a beautiful, reassuring warmth started at my hand and spread throughout my entire body, chasing away the pain the way a ray of sun in the middle of a storm brings the promise of a glorious new day.

"Shh, sweetheart, you can do this," Edward's shaky voice assured me. "You're so strong, Bella. You've always been so strong. You can do this."

"But it hurts," I whimpered.

"Oh, Baby," he said in a strangled whisper, his warm lips first on my hand and then on my sweaty forehead. "I'd give anything to bear the pain for you, but I can't. All I can do is be here. I'm here, Bella," he choked. "I'll _always_ find a way to be here when you need me. True and loyal hearts, remember?"

I opened my eyes then and looked into the most brilliant, beautiful evergreen orbs in creation.

"True and loyal hearts," I breathed.

At 1:47 p.m. on January first, 1951, Charles Carlisle Cullen came into the world in his father's old bedroom at his grandparent's house - a big baby at nine pounds and twenty-two inches. He ushered in a new year with a new phase in our lives, and afterwards, as the three of us lay squeezed together in Edward's childhood bed, we realized that our true and loyal hearts…well…our true and loyal hearts had created a family.

OOOOOOOOOO

Both my dad and Papa Phil visited Charlie after his birth.

I received a letter from Mother about a month later. She was in Cuba, enjoying all the pleasures that the pre-Castro regime provided Americans and apparently with no plans of coming home soon. Periodically, I'd receive hastily-written postcards with pictures of swaying palm trees and white-sand beaches along with best wishes for me and "the little guy."

In the spring of 1952, when Charlie was a little over a year old, I received a phone call from her.

"Darling, Cuba is simply paradise! You _have_ to go! The casinos are divine, the people are so friendly, and the weather is balmy year-round! I can only imagine how pale you've grown, living in that dreadful Washington weather."

"I tend to like the weather here, Mother," I said, helping Charlie guide the dinner spoon into his mouth. "Besides, Papa Phil tells me he hears that living conditions are horrid for many Cubans, and the atmosphere is ripe for revolution."

"Yes, well, your stepfather always has his predictions," she muttered darkly when referring to her estranged husband. "Darling, you have to see the apartment I've rented in midtown! The building has sixty floors, and my apartment has a balcony that faces Bryant Park! It's absolutely lovely! Isabella, you have to get out of that little town and do some traveling again!"

Closing my eyes, I counted backwards from five. When I reopened them, Edward offered me a sympathetic smile.

"Mother," I sighed, handing off feeding duties to my husband while turning around in my seat, "I have a fourteen-month-old child, a husband stationed in Seattle, and though Carlisle continued working with me through the pregnancy and the baby's birth, he's now ready to retire, which means I'll be running the practice by myself. I don't have time to run around the Caribbean or any other corner of the world. Besides, you've never seen our house since Edward and I moved to Forks." I paused, swallowing. "You haven't even met your grandson."

"Isabella…" she sighed.

"He looks mostly like Edward; the same green eyes and copper hair he had as a young boy, but he looks like me too…like _us_, Mother."

She was quiet.

"Mother…am I that much of a disappointment? Is that why it's so hard for you to look at me?"

"That's not why it's hard for me to look at you."

"Then what is it?"

She released a humorless chuckle. "Darling, the answer to that question is too complicated for a phone call, but _you_ are not the disappointment; you never were."

"Then _what_ is it?"

She didn't answer.

"Mother, can we please…just put all this behind us?" I felt Edward's comforting hand on my shoulder. "Whatever it is, wherever we went wrong, does it even matter anymore? I feel like…like I lost you in the war, Mother. Like our relationship, even the poor one we had, was another casualty of that war. I haven't seen you since before it ended. I just want us to-"

"How about…how about I come up in the summer?" she suggested, her voice quivering. "It's bad enough the weather in that state is so dreary. At least if I wait until summer, I may be lucky enough to get some warm weather."

"Will you really come, Mother?" I breathed hopefully, wiping away the tears under my eyes while Edward squeezed my shoulder.

"I'll come, Isabella," she murmured. "I promise. I'll take a look at my calendar and call you soon with a date."

"Alright, Mother," I smiled. "I…I'll look forward to it."

"I will too, darling."

OOOOOOOOOO

On August 31, 1952, the phone rang in the middle of the night.

Home on leave and with the telephone on his side of the bed, Edward was the one to answer. He greeted Papa Phil, and soon, the blood drained from his face while he fisted his hair in his hand. His eyes darted to me with so much sympathy that I knew, even before he spoke the words.

I'd waited all summer, but she'd never called back to set a date.

When he hung up, he pulled me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head on his good shoulder.

"How did it happen?"

"She was driving to the Hamptons with…a friend. There was an oncoming bus…oh baby…"

I closed my eyes, and I _wanted_ to cry; God knows I did.

But I suppose by then, I'd shed every tear possible for Mother.

She was forty-six years old.

OOOOOOOOOO

Time passes and heals wounds, even those that have been bleeding for years.

In May of 1953, Mac and Edward were discharged from the military and came home for good. And on July 27, 1953, the U.S., China, North Korea and South Korea signed an armistice agreement which left the borders of North and South Korea basically the same as they'd been before the war.

Edward resumed his job with the Clallam County Public Works office, and on July 30, 1953, I gave birth to Sebastian Philip Cullen, a smaller baby at seven pounds two ounces, and therefore much easier to deliver than his older brother. So easy, in fact, that by the end of the following summer, on August 13, 1954, exactly one month before my thirtieth birthday, I delivered our third child, the little girl for whom Edward, already having two sons, had been praying: Leah Elizabeth Cullen.

Leah's delivery turned out to be even harder than Charlie's had been. Afterwards, due to the complications, I was approved for a government-issued diaphragm.

"I just think Leah would like a baby sister," I said one winter evening a couple of years later.

The children were all in bed, and Edward and I lay snuggled on our couch, watching the white and grey dead air static on the TV after _The Ed Sullivan Show_ ended. Max slept peacefully by the fireplace, curled into a ball and probably grateful for a few hours of reprieve before the children woke.

Edward sighed. "Bella, do you think I wouldn't love to have another child with you? Another little girl, this time possibly with your dark, wavy hair and your golden eyes?"

Chuckling, I looked up at him. "Our sweet little Leah _is_ the spitting image of your sister with her black hair and blue eyes, isn't she?"

He smirked. "Leah is gorgeous, just like her mother. She may have Alice's hair and eyes, but the rest of her is you. She's got your spirit, your kindness, your intelligence…"

"Alright, alright," I said, cutting off his enumeration of my perceived qualities, "but why can't we try-"

"Bella…" he murmured, evergreen eyes warm yet suddenly so serious, "exactly twelve years ago, I was in a…horrific place in Germany, cold and hungry, but most of all, my heart ached so much," he said brokenly, "because I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again. I hadn't felt that fear again, not once since I woke up in that hospital in France – until right before little Leah finally popped out. I…" he swallowed, "I'm not as strong as you are, Bella, and I can't bear the thought of _ever_ having to live without you."

"Edward…" I smiled, stroking his cheek, "as much as I can help it, that'll never happen."

He nodded, his lips grazing my forehead. "Bella, you and I…we both know how things would've ended had you not found me in France. And in twelve years, we've built this life and…we've made a family. Despite everything that came before, despite whatever has happened since, and despite whatever may lie ahead of us, we've made a family – a perfect one."

Cupping his cheek, I lifted myself and pressed my mouth to his warm lips, softly sucking on them.

"You're right, Edward. We've made a perfect family."

OOOOOOOOOO

And so with three children, our family was complete, and we all followed along on the path of life, a wonderful one yet still always needing to adjust for the realities one can never truly escape.

The war-torn forties had given way to the restless fifties.

The return of our men after the Second World War sent most of the women back into the kitchen. But a fire had been lit, and as a new decade progressed, that fire would only grow. Through cold wars and continuing conflicts, our nation evolved. Highways, automobiles, and airplanes became the wave of the future, slowly displacing Papa Phil's railroads.

Radios gave way to televisions.

Elvis and rock and roll were here to stay.

The atomic bomb gave way to the hydrogen bomb.

Mother's much-loved Cuba became the first communist nation in the western hemisphere, and as if that wasn't enough, the Russians beat us to space by putting a satellite in orbit, striking fear in the hearts of many Americans that someday they'd rain worse terrors over us from the skies, and giving rise to Senator McCarthy's communist witch trials.

The youth of the nation, which had distinguished itself through not one but two world wars in the first half of the twentieth century, now demanded a voice in the second half. Youth rallies and protests gained popularity as a way to speak out, to disagree, to fight injustices whether they be racial, sexual or social.

The restless fifties gave way to the radical sixties, which were ushered in with the promise of a newly-elected, handsome young president, who told us not to ask what our country could do for us, but rather, ask what we could do for our country. Unfortunately, we never did quite figure out what that was since that charismatic young president was assassinated less than three years into his first term.

In 1960, Charlie remarried, almost a decade after Mother's death. Sarah was a widow who'd lost her husband in the First World War. They'd met at a Bingo game. She was a pleasant woman, and as far as I could tell, she took decent care of Charlie.

We received yet another late phone call one night in June of 1968. Normally, we would've all been in bed, but Bobby Kennedy had just been assassinated, and we, like most Americans, were riveted to the television. With Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination just a couple of months earlier, the children were in an uproar, and we were trying to assure them that the world was not in fact ending. War, hatred, and conflict would be a part of our lives for as long as peace, love and beauty would be.

When Sarah told me that my father had fallen down the stairs, hit his head, and was now unconscious, I flew to Chicago the following morning. When I arrived at the hospital, he opened his eyes, almost as if he'd been waiting.

I squeezed his hand. "I love you, Daddy. I always have. Thank you for being such a wonderful father through everything."

He smiled, and then he closed his eyes again forever.

OOOOOOOOOO

In 1969, our firstborn son, Charlie graduated high school and joined his cousin MJ in Vietnam. When his brother, Bastian joined him two years later, I understood, finally, why Papa Phil had tried so hard to keep Masen and Edward out of the Second World War.

While the boys were in Vietnam, their grandfather, Carlisle Cullen, suffered from a brain hemorrhage in his sleep. For two weeks, we all stood vigil with him at the hospital, but unlike my dad, Carlisle never woke. He passed quietly in his sleep on April 12, 1972. At the funeral, I held my husband's hand while he held up his mother. Papa Phil sent his condolences and a beautiful arrangement made of flowers that bloomed only in the mountains of Washington.

We visited Esme often after Carlisle's passing, and one morning, she sat us down at the kitchen table.

"This house is too big for me alone now," she said, ringing her hands nervously. "All the wasted room. I know that you and Edward have made memories in your own home, but Carlisle and I spoke of it once before he passed, and we've always wanted you two to have this house. You'll have more room for your family," she pointed out.

"Momma, you don't have to-"

Laying a hand on Edward's chest, I signaled for him to stop because I could only imagine how, despite being surrounded by family, being left behind must've been a lonely weight for her to bear.

"Esme," I took her lined hand in between mine. "It is a bigger house, and we'd be honored to move there with you."

She released a long sigh of relief.

"But remember," I smiled, "the boys may be away right now, and they'll most likely be going to college when they return," I said, refusing to contemplate any other possibility besides them returning safely, "but Leah is still home, and she can be a handful with her loud music and her friends always over, organizing demonstrations. Are you sure you want to live with a teenager?"

Esme laughed, but she sobered quickly. "Thank you, Bella," she said, her crinkled yet still beautiful eyes full of tears, "for understanding."

In 1973, we sold our house and moved into the Cullen House with Esme, where we lived with her and took care of her until her passing eleven years later, at the age of eighty-six. By the end of that year, our boys and our nephews returned from Vietnam with their own set of nightmares to fight, but they were all in one piece.

OOOOOOOOOO

Sometimes, as with my mother and with Carlisle, death comes suddenly, stealing any chance of those parting words you'll always wish you would've given voice. Sometimes, as with my dad, Charlie, you're allowed no more than a quick goodbye.

Sometimes life allows you to say much more.

Papa Phil's eyes were half-lidded when I walked into his hospice room in upstate New York on a Friday evening in April of 1980. His attention was on the TV resting over a shelf in the upper right hand corner. I could vaguely make out Frank Reynolds' voice on _Nightline:_

"_The attempt to rescue the American hostages held captive in the U.S. Embassy in Iran failed today, with eight American servicemen killed and five wounded when a mid-air collision occurred…"_

Papa Phil's tired eyes flickered down to me, and his thumb hovered over the remote, turning down the volume.

I took a seat next to him on the bed. "You don't have to do that, you know," I smiled. "I'm no longer a little girl. I'll be fifty-six years old in a few months."

He snorted, but the sound was muffled by the oxygen mask over his mouth. "They were air force men that were killed, and despite the time that's passed, I didn't think you'd want the reminder." His words were slow and stunted, the emphysema having stolen most of the air from his sick lungs.

"Thank God Bastian is stationed in Germany," I murmured.

"Hmph. Boy's got too much of his father in him."

I quirked a brow. "I happen to think that's a good thing."

We both looked up at the TV, but he was right. The graphic footage was a bit too much for me, and I diverted my eyes, watching him instead. His hair, once thick and dark, was now brittle and white. His once so handsome face was severely gaunt and wrinkled. I swallowed through a dry throat, so grateful that Edward had stopped smoking soon after the war.

Papa Phil shook his head at the TV. "Well, the years pass, the players change, yet the game remains the same, eh? Let's watch something else."

"Sure," I smiled, watching him click through the channels.

"Where's your husband?"

"He took Leah and little Isabella to JFK, remember? He should be back soon."

"Hm."

I looked back up at the TV, where JR Ewing was, for yet another week in a row, making Sue Ellen cry.

"Your sister…" Papa Phil said suddenly, "she may try some funny business. I don't want you two to fight."

"There won't be any fighting, Papa."

"Now, Isabella," – his lungs made a horrible wheezing sound – "I know you have your Trust that you've never used for yourself, and I know that your mother left you all her jewels and such," he made an attempt to sit up straighter, but his arms were too weak, so I stood quickly and adjusted the automatic levers on his bed. "But you have to let me" – he wheezed – "you have to let me…"

"Shhh, alright, alright, Papa Phil. Still as bossy as ever," I teased, pushing back a grey lock from his forehead.

He frowned darkly. "And you're still just as" – he gasped sharply for air – "just as stubborn."

We glared at one another, and I remembered all the times while I was growing up when I tried to win an argument with him.

Tiredly, he lay his pale, withered head against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

"I made so many mistakes. With you, with your mother, with…Esme and our…son." His voice broke. "But I never meant to…I only wanted to-"

"Shhh," I murmured, stroking his rough cheek. "Papa, we do the best we can with these lives we're given. As long as we know that, there's no need for regrets."

"But I didn't do my best!" He lifted a thin hand and snatched off his oxygen mask. "There are so many things I could've done differently, I _should've_ done differently!" Eyes that had once been piercingly blue were now dull and glassy. "I had no right, I know, but I simply wanted to be your father, the best I knew to be for _you_…I wanted…I wanted…" He dropped his head and cried softly.

I thought back to the first time I lay eyes on my Papa Phil: strong and handsome in his expensively tailored three-piece suit, a dark fedora atop his dark head of hair, a confident, commanding grin playing across his lips.

For a few seconds, my throat constricted so tightly that I was unable to speak. Instead, I picked up his bony hand and squeezed it.

"When I was a young girl, I was lucky enough to be given two fathers."

He began sobbing.

"Each one has made me the woman I am today. One taught me to fish and to swim, to be kind and compassionate, generous and helpful. He gave me open love and a stable home. The other…the other gave me a puppy when I was lonely. He taught me how to be independent and to count on myself. But he also taught me how to play pool, how to read a business prospectus, how to appreciate and travel fearlessly, how to do many things on my own and yet how to accept help – regardless of how begrudgingly - when needed." He chuckled, tears trickling into his mouth. "He taught me to stand up for what I believe in, and to hold my head up high. He taught me how to be strong, and…and how to forgive."

"You've always been my little girl," he wept, "and I've been proud of you every second of every day since the moment you came into my life. You've grown into a wonderful woman, and if I can take credit for even a fraction of that, then I'll go happily."

"Oh Papa Phil," I cried openly, cupping his cheek, "you have always been, and you will _always_ be, my Papa Phil."

We sat there silently for a few minutes until Papa Phil's exhausted eyes flickered away from me towards the door and widened.

When I turned around, Edward stood by the doorway – flanked by Esme and MJ.

I stood and readjusted his oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Keep that on," I ordered, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Now, I'll give you some privacy."

I walked to the door where Edward lay his hand on the small of my back and led me out of the room.

My Papa Phil died the next morning, April 26, 1980.

OOOOOOOOOO

We held a three-day wake for Papa Phil at a funeral home on the Upper West Side to allow his numerous friends, acquaintances and business associates to attend. Lauren arrived from California on the last day of the wake, making a point of letting everyone know what a hardship it had been to get away.

On that last day like the two preceding it, Edward and I walked around the room greeting people, some that I knew, and some that I didn't.

"I haven't seen some of these people since before the war," I whispered to him, "and it's so strange, seeing them as old men and women now when I remember looking up at them before and being overwhelmed by their beauty and glamour."

He snorted. "That'll be us soon enough."

I moved in closer to adjust his dark tie, meeting his eyes. Despite the fact that he'd be turning fifty-eight in a couple of months, he was still an extremely handsome man. His hair was thick and still mostly dark except for his temples, where the grey gave him an aura of wisdom and refinement, as did the few lines on his forehead and around his eyes. He'd remained lean and strong, much of it thanks to our son, Charlie, and to MJ, both doctors who insisted we take care of ourselves. And his eyes…well, the brilliance in his evergreen eyes was as captivating as ever.

"You'll _never_ be an old man – not to me."

He slid his arms around my waist. "And you'll _always_ be my gorgeous woodland nymph."

"Sweet-talker," I smirked, my hands on his lapels. His eyes crinkled, and when they swept past me, he seemed to stiffen for an instant, but then he gazed down at me with a soft smile.

"It's hot in here. I'll go get us some water."

"Alright, thanks."

While I waited, I gazed out of the window at a city that had changed so much since I'd lived there in my youth. The brownstones across from Central Park were now flanked by tenements. Garbage littered the streets absolutely everywhere. As I watched, a blue and white NYPD car pulled over, and the officer jumped out and grabbed a young boy running down the street. I narrowed my eyes, wishing I could hear what was going on.

"Isabella Cullen."

My breath hitched.

It had been thirty-five years since I'd last heard that voice, a lifetime ago in a different world under circumstances so grim and bleak that I sometimes wondered if I'd imagined it all.

When I turned around, my quick calculations told me that Peter would be approaching sixty about now. His hair, once so blond it was almost white, was receding slightly, and now it was all white. His face was lined with wrinkles, of course, as unfortunately was mine. But he stood tall, his shoulders straight, and though he'd gained some weight, it suited him. He looked well.

"Peter," I smiled.

He moved in and gave me a tight hug.

Our lives, once so intricately connected by family and society, had drifted in completely different directions following the war. Oh, I'd had periodic updates on him, as I'm sure he probably heard from that same source what was occurring in my life, but we'd had no contact since that day back in early 1945 when our world was still at war, and we were at a hospital in France after he'd helped me find Edward.

"How have you been, Isabella? You look…" he pulled away, drawing in a deep breath, "wonderful."

"I've been well, thank you. And you look well too. How have you been?"

"Not too bad," he smiled. The air of mischief that still played at the corners of his mouth took me back to those summers in Forks when we were all just a bunch of innocent children. "After the war, I came home for a while, but then I was called back into duty for the Korean War."

"So was Edward," I said.

He nodded, grinning softly. "Well, having nothing to keep me here, I volunteered to go to Korea, where I met my wife, Sun-Hi." He jerked his chin, and I turned around. A few feet away stood a miniature women with jet black hair and black eyes. She was speaking to someone, and when she smiled, she lit up the entire room.

"She's beautiful," I murmured.

"Yes," Peter chuckled, "she is. I call her Sunny because…well, because she brought the sunshine back into my life. We have two boys and a grandson on the way."

"Congratulations! Edward and I have two boys and a girl, four grandchildren, and two more on the way."

"Whoa ho ho!" he cried, the way he used to when we were so much younger. "You've got me beat."

"I'm sure you'll catch up – or rather, your boys will."

We both chuckled.

"But…I must confess," he said, more temperately, "I knew you and Edward had three children. I kept track of you, Bella, for a long time."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Peter, you scoundrel. You'll never change."

He gave me one of his typical, unapologetic shrugs. "What can I say, it wasn't easy to fall out of love with you."

"Did you?"

"Yes, Bella. I did."

I drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm glad you found someone. I've always wished…Peter, I've always wished I could've better expressed how much your friendship and your help meant to me – never more than during those months…"

I trailed off, all those years later still finding it hard to speak of that time.

"We were young," he sighed wistfully, "and doing things that…sometimes I find hard to believe we did."

"Me too," I smiled.

He held my gaze. "You were so brave. Bella…the years I spent loving you were both the best and worst of my life. It broke my heart, but…but I wouldn't trade those summers for the world."

"Neither would I."

I felt Edward's presence behind me, and then his hand snaked around my waist.

"Edward," Peter grinned.

Edward stretched out a hand and shook Peter's firmly. "Peter, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too."

I excused myself and walked away, leaving Edward and Peter to say what they needed to say.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later on that evening, on our flight back to Washington, Edward turned to me.

"So do you think you made the right choice?"

His evergreen eyes sparkled with mischief. We'd been married for thirty-five years at that point, and I knew him well enough. He'd made his peace with Peter, yet no matter what, there would always be a sense of rivalry there.

"Well…let's see…" I made a show of sweeping my eyes over him, brow raised. "I suppose," I finally said.

He scowled at me, and I laughed.

"It was never a competition, Edward. There was never a choice. I've been yours since the day you pulled me out of that river almost half a century ago."

He cupped my face between his warm hands, eyes bright and so…alive. "I love you, Isabella Cullen. My heart…my heart will always be true and loyal to you."

OOOOOOOOOO

The decades passed. We grew older. Our children had children, and then their children had children.

At the very end of the 80s, after thirty-eight years of restricted traffic between East and West Germany, the Berlin Wall came tumbling down, and the cold war came to a halting end. Yet with the end of that conflict, new conflicts arose. Problems in the Middle East escalated, and one day, two skyscrapers came tumbling down, and our world was once again left asking, "What's the point?"

But you see, the point is-

##########

The sensation is not unlike one of just awakening from a long, vivid dream.

It's like in those initial few seconds when your eyes first flutter open. All is still so clear in your mind, detailed and realistic: vibrant colors and sweet tastes on your tongue, a soft, soothing voice in your ear, warm skin making the tips of your fingers tingle, fears and joys and longings so real that reality seems like the dream.

It happens _so_ often now.

Colors are the first thing to penetrate the memories; bright, radiant colors that contrast with the evergreen tones in my mind and bring me back so suddenly - in this case, the brilliant wings of a yellow goldfinch perched on the birdfeeder a few feet away. My husband made that birdfeeder when Isabella was young and took a sudden fascination with birds. He got some wood, a hammer, and nails and put together a miniature version of our home where pigeons, doves and hummingbirds could all come and rest. He'd kneel there with her, pointing out colors and fascinating facts that would make her golden eyes grow wide, until she grew older and her interests took a different turn.

Yet the birdhouse remains, the wood weathered and aged.

"The world changes all the time. One world war becomes another. Conflicts grow fiercer, and we have no idea where they'll end, but we live our lives mixed in with it all because if we don't, then there's no point to any of it. We honor those who've given their all to allow us these imperfect lives. And we keep the faith that their sacrifices weren't in vain because the day we lose that faith, _that's_ the day they died for nothing. And that's all I wanted to say," I smile, shrugging my shoulders. "I suppose I went the long way around it."

Isabella returns the smile. She kneels before me, quiet tears streaming down her face. "We didn't mind, Nana. It was a beautiful way to say it all, a way that helped me…that helped _us_ see so much."

I cradle her sweet, unlined cheek in my hands. "You do look so much like me when I was young." And with a deep sigh, I slap my hands together and make to stand. "And now, I do think I'll go wake up your Grandpa Edward. Goodness, he's slept so long! They'll all be here any minute and-"

"Mama-"

"Nana, please wait a minute."

From under the magnificent evergreen, the tree where I first fell in love, the evergreen that's been witness to so much of our lives: births, deaths, the deepest grief and the most overpowering joy, I gaze out into the vast field, past the tree line that leads to the river where….

Where…

"Oh. _Ohh_." All the meager air left in my tired lungs seems to leave me in a rush. "Yes," I barely manage to breathe. "Yes, I see now…"

"Nana…"

The vast field stretches out far ahead, a lush lawn with varying shades of green and moist foliage, full bushes and trees that form a canopy of brown and moss, and just before you reach the footbridge, between the evergreen and the river where we lived our best moments…a headstone.

One more memory flashes through my mind…

_An evening not too long ago that started with a good night kiss like every other good night kiss we'd shared over the past sixty-nine years…except…except the next morning…_

"_Edward…?"_

"Mama…" Leah quickly rushes to my side where I sit motionless, bombarded by all the things I seem to have forgotten: a cold hand, a black car, a flag draped over a casket.

"I'm alright," I wave her off, "but…but how long has it been?"

"Six months, Mama," Leah says quietly. "It's been six months."

"Six months?" I murmur.

_My heart can't function for long without yours. The day yours stops, mine won't be far behind._

"H-how?"

"Like Grandpa Carlisle, he had a hemorrhage, but it took Daddy right away," Leah whispers, taking my hand. "He didn't suffer, Mama."

"You…you forget sometimes, Nana," Isabella says.

"Yes," I nod slowly. "Yes, I forget." I suppose that explains things. My old, aged mind has betrayed me and is keeping my body fueled on nothing more than memories.

"Goddamned mind."

"Mama? Mama, maybe you should lie down-"

"Mama!" a loud voice booms, and I startle. My attention turns towards a man who makes my old heart jump. But the hair is a darker shade, more like mine, and the eyes…no, the eyes are different.

"Bastian's here," Leah announces, and more people rush through the back door: my other son, wives, children, and grandchildren.

"Mama," Leah says. "Mama, if you'd rather lie down before greeting them…" Her eyes flicker worriedly between me and her siblings.

"No," I shake my head, which is suddenly muddled and dim, thoughts disorganized. "I just need…I need…"

"Mama, what do you need? I'll get it for you."

"I need…" How do I tell her that what I need…_who_ I need is no longer here?

"Mama, Nana just needs a few minutes," Isabella says. "Go say hi to my uncles. Girls, go say hi to your cousins. I'll stay with Nana."

Leah looks unsure, but after some more coaxing, she goes to greet her brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, hand in hand with Skye and Olivia, who both give me sympathetic backwards glances.

"Thank you, Isabella," I say once the others are a few feet away, squeezing her hand.

She sits on the moist grass next to me, her golden eyes warm and full of compassion.

"Thank _you_, Nana, for giving us your history - _our_ history. I knew the basics. I knew about losing Uncle Masen in the war, and about Grandpa going missing for a while, and I have vague memories of Grandpop Phil, but the rest…My God, Nana, you were all such heroes."

"Well, I happen to think we were just young men and women who, when the time came, simply did what needed to be done."

"You were much more," she shakes her head, kissing my old, withered hand. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her voice shaking with her tears. "I know it must hurt, being here without him."

"I promised him once…" I murmur, gazing out into the open field.

"What did you promise?"

"I promised him that as much as I could help it, he'd never have to live without me. But I didn't realize…" Her golden eyes meet my old, sallow ones. "I didn't realize _I'd_ have to live without _him_."

"Oh Nana."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice and Jasper's children and grandchildren arrive, as do Mac and Rose's along with Masen's son, my sweet MJ, and his children and grandchildren.

They're full of laughter. Arguments begin and are quickly settled. The older ones sit around the long patio table where my Leah has prepared a feast in my honor. They talk about days gone by while their children gather around the porch, laughing, drinking beer and discussing current events. The children's children sit in a circle off to the side, the teenagers on their cell phones while the younger ones, like young Ethan, run and yell all over the place with the family pets.

I sit under the evergreen where the gentle breeze whips up my long, white hair. Withered leaves dance in a circle by my feet, crackling and breaking off into smaller pieces.

"Edward…" I whisper into the air, "You were right, Edward. We made a perfect family."

We nurtured it. We taught it love and beauty and compassion. Now, it stands on its own, and I sit back, watching…

Time has taken my generation, one by one. They've left before me. _He's_ left before me.

I suppose it's best this way. I wouldn't have wanted this heartache and lonesomeness for him. I remember Esme all those years ago, the loneliness etched in her eyes despite being surrounded by so much family. I've been lost in my own mind, reliving lives that have come and gone like the broken leaves at my feet. But there's one thing I have to remember; I _must_ remember now:

"Remember," I command myself in a strong voice, slowly swinging to and fro. "Remember, true and loyal hearts….he _won't_ forget."

OOOOOOOOOO

They sing "Happy Birthday," and the children count my age by tens. They take pictures. I suppose at ninety, I'm some sort of novelty. They play with their small phones, eyes narrowed in concentration while their thumbs move furiously over keypads.

My sons spend time with me. They ask if I'm taking my medications, and Leah, who moved in with me once her father…well, she assures them that I do. They hug me tightly, and they look so much like their father, each in his own way. Charlie resembles him physically; Bastian resembles him in mannerisms.

"Daddy's watching over you from heaven, Mama," Charlie tells me later, threading his fingers through mine. "When you feel alone, just remember that Daddy's watching over you from heaven."

He looks so melancholic, I don't have the heart to tell him that's no consolation. Children shouldn't have to worry for their parents.

"Remember," I repeat. "I just have to remember. True and loyal hearts."

"That's right, Mama," he smiles indulgently. "True and loyal hearts."

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, once they've all collectively determined that I'm tired, Leah prepares to take me up to my room. With my foot on the first step, I turn to Isabella.

"Come meet me in a few minutes, child."

"Sure, Nana," she smiles. She's been having fun catching up with her cousins, but she'll do this for me. We've always had a bond, she and I. "I'll be up there in a few. Promise."

Her daughters seem to have a newfound affection for me.

"Good night, Nana," Olivia tells me, hugging me tightly. "Thanks so much for the beautiful story." There's sincerity in her tone, in her pretty blue eyes. "I can't wait to tell all my friends."

Then Skye hugs me. "Yes, Nana. You and Grandpa Edward had such a wonderful life together. I hope someday…" She trails off, yet I can imagine her hopes. They're the hopes of every young girl before she's taught that it's no longer modern or fashionable to wish for the love of a good man.

"You just remember girls, true and loyal hearts never forget, and you'll be fine."

"We'll definitely remember that, Nana," Skye smiles. "Always."

"Daddy, Nana seemed so aware today," one of children says as I'm climbing up the stairs. They forget that though my eyes may be weak, my ears are still as sharp as ever. "Do you think she's getting better?"

"It's degenerative, sweetheart. Nana will have good days and bad days," my son, Charlie responds.

"It might be a blessing that your dad passed away before this happened," his wife adds. "It would've killed him to see her like this."

I try not to cringe.

When we're in front of my bedroom door, Leah meets my eyes, and I see the hope shining in them.

"Did you have a nice day, Mama?"

"Of course I did, sweetheart. It was good to have all the family together again."

"It was, wasn't it?" Then she wraps her arms around me. "Oh, Mama, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Baby," I tell her, stroking her soft hair. "You've always been such a good daughter to your father and me."

She pulls away. "Goodnight, Mama. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will." I kiss her cheek. "Good night, sweetheart. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

She chuckles the way she has since she was a little girl. "I won't, Mama,"

OOOOOOOOOO

_January, 1943_

_Bassingbourn, England_

_My Dearest Bella:_

_I don't even know where to start this letter._

_If you're reading this, then I've broken my promise to you, sweetheart, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorrier than you'll ever be able to imagine, sorrier than I could ever put into words. I promised you I'd come home, and Bella, I meant it with all my heart and soul. There's nothing in this entire universe I could've ever wanted more than that. I dream of marrying you, Bella, of making you my wife and making love to you every night. I dream of putting this war behind us and having our own family, of giving you absolutely everything I can. And I wanted to, Bella. I wanted to keep my promises more than anything._

_But please, honor me with this last request: live your life, sweetheart. Live it to the very last hour, to the very last minute. Enjoy whatever God sets in front of you because I can only imagine it'll be wondrous. You deserve nothing less._

_And when the day comes when you've enjoyed your last second, and you're ready, when the world no longer needs you because you've given it all you can, I WILL come for you. I'll always find a way to be with you._

_True and loyal hearts. Remember._

_I love you, always._

_Lieutenant Edward A. Cullen_

OOOOOOOOOO

"I remember, Edward," I murmur, closing the yellowed, faded letter that remained sealed for almost seven decades, and drawing in as deep a breath as my old lungs allow. "I remember: true and loyal hearts."

There's a knock on the door. I fold up the letter and open the top drawer to my nightstand, stowing it inside.

"Come in."

Isabella walks in, smiling tenderly, and takes a seat next to me on the bed I shared with my husband for decades. Her fingers gently glide through my hair.

"I hope my hair is still as pretty and soft as yours when I'm your age."

I chuckle lightly. "Child, don't rush Father Time too much."

She offers me another smile, her gentle fingers now on my leathered cheek. "Are you okay, Nana? Are we making too much noise downstairs?"

"Not at all," I assure her. "I love listening to all of my family laugh and fight and talk. It reminds me of Alice and when we would disagree, or Rose, who never had a cross word for anyone, and Edward, Jasper and Masen, always rough-housing. And Mac and his booming voice. You could hear him from anywhere."

"You remember so much today, Nana," she says, stroking my face.

"I do," I agree. "I truly do. Now before I do forget, go to the dresser there and open the top drawer, please."

Her brows furrow together, but she does as I ask.

"Pull out those journals. Yes, that's right. Those."

"Are these…" her wide eyes gaze down at the stack of leather-bound journals in her hands, "are these Grandpa Edward's journals?"

"Yes, and mine. Now come sit next to me again."

Eyes glued to the journals, she resumes her place next to me.

"I want you to have them."

Bewildered, golden eyes shoot up to me. "Nana! Nana, I can't! These are yours! They're precious and priceless-"

"They _are_ priceless, but listen to me. Every word from every single one of those journals is etched into my memory as clearly as a sparkling river. Neither old age nor any disease will ever change that."

"But Nana," she protests, "shouldn't Mama, Uncle Charlie, or Uncle Sebastian-"

"Your mom and uncles have their own heirlooms - your grandfather's uniforms and medals and such, but you, sweetheart," I take her young hand in mine and squeeze it. "I want _you_ to have these for whenever you feel like it's all too much, for whenever you ask yourself, 'what's the point?' My Papa Phil once told me: the years pass, the players change, yet the game remains the same."

Silent tears roll down her beautiful face. "Thank you, Nana. I'll treasure them always."

"I know you will."

She carefully draws me into her arms, as if she's afraid I'll break, but the strength with which she embraces me, the affection is all-consuming.

"I love you, Nana Bella. Thank you for being such an amazing woman." She pulls away. "Are you ready to sleep now?"

"Yes," I smile. "Yes, _now_ I'm ready."

OOOOOOOOOO

The cool, mountain night air wafts in through the open windows, filling the room with all the scents so familiar and soothing: moist grass and dry leaves, the pungency of wet bark carried in the breeze. The cicadas' musical chorus fills my ears, accompanied by a hooting owl in the distance, and if I listen hard enough, I can hear the gentle rush of the river just beyond.

I open my eyes, and he's looking down at me, his crooked grin lifting up the corners of his mouth, evergreen eyes young and bright even in his lined, creased face, taking my meager breath away.

"You left me."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I didn't want to, but I had no choice, and I couldn't come back until you were ready." He takes my hand, knitting our old fingers together, and stands. "You're ready now, and they're ready."

He's patient while I get to my feet, and when we're both upright, I slip into his warm embrace.

"I missed you," I breathe against his chest, more malleable than it used to be when we were younger, but just as sheltering.

"Oh, sweetheart." He strokes my long white hair, and then with his thumb on my chin, he lifts my gaze to his. "I missed you so much, but I'm here, the way I promised I'd be. Come on," he smiles. "I have a surprise for you."

He leads me through the dark hallway, down the narrow staircase and through the living room where we danced on so many occasions before and after the war. He guides me through the door, and as he takes the first step down, I stand on the dark porch, looking up at the brilliant stars in the midnight sky. They sparkle radiantly the way they did that night when we as children camped out under the moon, the night I looked up into his evergreen eyes and knew he was meant to be my best friend forever. And as I gaze at the hallowed sky, the stars twinkle and smile and are reborn into birds in flight, soaring past a silver moon that shifts into a golden sun. The tips of its long rays cast its wondrous light across the field and fall over the man before me, catching the copper in his hair.

His evergreen eyes smile at me, framed in an unlined face no longer marked by time or age. He stands tall and strong, the broad-shouldered man of my youth.

"Oh!" I cry, reaching for him. The sun's rays shine over my arm, and it's the arm of a young girl on the precipice of womanhood, smooth blooming skin unmarred by years gone by.

He strokes my cheek, grinning. "Let's go, Bella. They're waiting."

The summer breeze tickles our skin as we sprint past our magnificent evergreen, its branches green and proud as it reaches for the sky, an everlasting testament. The grass is warm and moist under our bare feet, and as we run over the playground of our summers, Sandy barks behind me, chasing us with all the energy of her prime.

"Come on, Sandy!" I pat my leg the way that's always made her follow. "Come on!"

Hand in hand, Edward and I rush past mossy bushes and hop over broken twigs while the sun cuts its peach-toned rays through the canopy above us. Voices and laughter fill the air, and when we break through the line of trees, they're all there.

"Bella!" Alice grins, sitting on the footbridge with her bare feet swinging, her skirt over her knees. "We've been waiting! Come in, the water's not too cold!"

"Yeah," Jasper chuckles, sitting next to her. "It's just about perfect!"

At the other end, Rose turns and offers me a radiant smile while Masen and Mac both cast fishing lines into the water.

"Ed, let's see what we can catch," Masen says, and Mac's laughter booms.

Sandy chases Gus downstream, and they both jump in, swimming happily with the current.

And I turn to Edward, the copper-haired young man to whom fate one day led me. He takes both my hands, moving in closer, his brilliant evergreen eyes on mine.

"Is this where I belong, Edward?"

"Yes," he smiles. "This is where we both belong."

"You remembered."

He nods, dipping his mouth to mine. "True and loyal hearts, Bella. They never forget."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**AoI Playlist Song:****_This Used to be my Playground_****by Madonna (Actually a great song, and a perfect song for this final chapter, imo). :)**

**_This used to be my playground_**_**  
**_**_This used to be my childhood dream_**_**  
**_**_This used to be the place I ran to_**_**  
**_**_Whenever I was in need of a friend…_**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

*****Epi coming up tomorrow or Monday. Whenever it's ready.*****


	70. Epilogue - Full Circle

**A/N: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.**

**Hitting the 'Complete' button on this one.**

**Betad by the lovely, wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes. Thanks for taking another ride with me. **

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.**

* * *

**Epilogue – Full Circle**

_Present Day:_

The sun shines brightly this afternoon, an atypical day amidst these beautiful mountains I've visited every summer of my life. Ordinarily, grey filmy clouds create a sheer canopy of mist like a layer of second skin that veils these woods – soft and soothing, wedged between gloriously tall mountains. I've spent long, wondrous days cocooned in this otherworldly shelter, surrounded by its magnificent, lush greenery and its calming river. It's been a safe haven I've always known I can count on when things aren't quite right in Seattle or in the rest of the world.

Like me, the birds are also enjoying the uncommon golden rays while chirping their approval, flitting from nest to nest as they bask in the warmth, spreading their wings and soaring. A red crossbill, its long, fine-edged black wings stretched towards the sky as if in worship, glides downwards and comes to rest on one of the headstones before me as if it's been summoned by my memories. Its dark eyes hold my gaze before its feathered head shakes from side to side, examining its environment.

"_Isabella, do you see that bird? That one is called a Red Crossbill. It gets its name from its color and because it can cross its bill up or down or side to side to remove seeds from the cones. See?"_

"_Wow! Can I touch it, Grandpa?"_

"_Only if you can catch it!"_

The gentle breeze tickles my skin, picking up my hair and looping it over my moist eyes. I push it back and twist it behind my ear, following the strands all the way down just as my Nana used to do when I was a little girl, and she'd sit me on her lap to brush it out for me.

"_You have such beautiful hair, Isabella."_

"_Grandpa says it looks just like yours. And he says my eyes look just like yours too." _

"_He does say that, doesn't he? I suppose it's because he loves us both so much." _

It's been almost two years since my Grandpa Edward passed and almost eighteen months since my Nana Bella followed him to wherever their mutual heaven awaited. This quiet hamlet where they now rest, halfway to their gurgling river and halfway to their magnificent evergreen is a place I visit often. While the children run around the back yard or visit with my mom, I take some time and sit with my grandparents. Sometimes, I read quietly from the journals that have both brought me comfort and taught me so much about life. Sometimes, I add to my own journals in the hopes that someday, my children or my children's children will glean similar comfort and knowledge from them.

Today, to brighten up their resting place I've brought Nana and Grandpa fresh flowers that grow wild in this area: white marigolds and red columbines, Olympic violets and peach tiger lilies all interspersed with the softest baby's breath. The girls helped me pick the flowers earlier, but we can't take complete credit for them, having gotten the lively color scheme from the enormous – and anonymous - arrangement that arrived from New York on the day of Nana's funeral. They're pretty flowers that go well together, and because they bloom so freely, the girls and I continue bringing them.

We found Nana the morning after her birthday lying curled under Grandpa's headstone, her long white hair cascading over her shoulder like a waterfall, her hands knit together under her cheek with a glorious smile lighting her beautiful face as if she was a young child in the midst of a most enchanting dream. How she'd managed to leave the house without any of us hearing, we still have no clue. But I suppose it's one of those things that has no explanation other than the obvious: she was always meant to be with him in one way or another, and neither life nor death would keep them apart.

"True and loyal hearts," I murmur, sitting on the moist grass and watching another Red Crossbill join the first, each one balancing on top of a headstone while singing to the other. "You were both true and loyal to the very end."

In my memories, my Grandpa Edward is a tall, strong, distinguished-looking man. From my earliest days, I have vague recollections of his dark hair; though, he'd lost the copper long before I was born. But in most of my memories, his hair is thick and white, and his green eyes are lush and vibrant, capturing all the shades of green in the forest surrounding him. Just as Nana once described them, they were definitely evergreen eyes. And though he grew older as time progressed, he was a strong, vibrant man until the very end.

My Nana Bella, on the other hand, was delicate and gentle, her beauty full of elegance almost ethereal despite wrinkles and grey hair acquired as time passed. But on the inside, oh on the inside, her strength shone like a beacon. When my own father was killed in action in 2003 during the war in Iraq, my Nana was there to comfort my mom, to help her through her ordeal both emotionally and financially and to provide us both with all the love and support we could possibly need.

The breeze picks up, making the grass ripple and roll like the river's current. When the birds take flight once more, I smile to myself.

"Isabella?"

I turn my head to the side at the sound of my husband's voice as I see him approaching, his blond hair catching in the sunlight and shining like gold. After he quietly sits on the grass beside me, he proceeds to pull me to him so that my back rests against his strong chest. I sigh in contentment.

_Yes, Nana, I too know what it's like to have my lover finally home from war. _

He drops a tender kiss to my temple, wrapping his arms around my shoulders while sheltering me from the growing breeze.

"Are you alright, babe?"

"I'm fine," I smile, "just visiting Nana and Grandpa."

His gaze trails to the side-by-side headstones, and he smiles. "How are they doing?"

"They're fine," I grin, "just fine. They're happy and healthy now, and…" I sigh.

"The stuff you've told me and read me from those journals…" he murmurs, a quiet reverence filling his voice, "they really were a part of the greatest generation."

I angle my head sideways and meet his warm, blue eyes, exactly like those of our daughters. "They were great, but I happen to believe you're pretty great as well."

He swallows and softly eases his lips to mine, brushing them back and forth, warming me. "All I've ever wanted to do is make sure that you and the kids are safe," he says, pulling back to meet my gaze, "that all of you have a chance to live in a world that's not ready to blow itself up on the drop of a dime."

"I know," I breathe. "You're so much like my dad…and like my grandpa in that way. I suppose that's why my nana always approved of you."

He snorts. "Yeah, your nana always did have the hots for me."

I punch his muscular arm, and he laughs. "I'm just kidding. Nana Bella was an amazing woman, and I wish I could've seen her once more before she passed."

"She was ready to go," I smile softly. "I could tell that evening when I went up to see her in her room. She was more…alive than I'd seen her in a while. Her health deteriorated so rapidly within those six months after Grandpa passed, and she was left here without him. You remember how healthy she always was before that, don't you?"

"Yeah," he grins softly. "She was one energetic lady - always traveling back and forth to those charity fundraisers she ran, always involved in those veteran support groups and donating to so many programs."

"And she helped MJ run the Dwyer Animal Hospital that's still housed in the building she used to live in during the summers when she was a little girl – in the house across the river that once belonged to Great-Grandpop Phil. But once Grandpa Edward passed…it was like her heart, her entire body simply couldn't function without him, just as she'd once said."

"True and loyal hearts," he murmurs, as he's heard me say quite often in the past eighteen months.

"True and loyal hearts," I echo.

We're both quiet for a long while. I rest against his chest, and we both let our eyes sweep across the vast field before us, enjoying the gentle hum of the wind, the rustling of tethered leaves, the woodland birds and foraging insects calling to one another, and if we listen closely enough, we can even hear the gentle gurgling of the river's flow.

"Have you told the kids yet?" Matt asks, breaking the relative silence.

"What, are you talking about the fact that along with their other cousins and aunts and uncles, they each have a small fortune, or the news that this is going to be our home now?" I grin.

He chuckles, tightening his arms around me. "Yes, all of that."

"No, not yet. When they're old enough, we'll tell them that Grandma and Grandpa left them something with which to begin their adult lives. As for us living here with Mama now," I meet his eyes once more, "I wanted us to tell them together."

"Good," he smiles.

"But I think they'll be thrilled," I add excitedly. "With the girls older, more mature now and heading off to college soon, I think they'll appreciate having this place to which they can return whenever they have free time, and they've also come to appreciate Mama more in the past year. And Ethan…" I turn around and look behind us in the direction of our soon-to-be-new-home, gazing over the top of the tree line in the distance to the lone evergreen – the anomaly - standing apart, the magnificent tree where young Isabella Swan Dwyer first fell in love…and where a boy who looks and acts so much like his great-grandfather is probably swinging right now. "Ethan does love running around that evergreen and swinging on that tire. And now, with more room than in Seattle, we can get him that German Shepard he's always wanted."

"Sounds like a plan," Matt chuckles. "We'll have the Olympic Mountains as our back yard and a magnificent evergreen in our front yard."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" I ask. "Are you ready to be a civilian again and live the quiet life?"

I hold my breath while my husband breathes in deeply, his firm chest expanding and contracting behind me, blue eyes piercing. More than anything, I want him home with me, but like my Nana before me, I won't change the man I love.

"I'm ready to come home…to stay." His forehead rests on mine. "I just…I can't be away from you and the kids anymore. Those stories you told me…the ones you've read me from those journals…I want that kind of ending for us, Isabella. I want us together…forever." He kisses me softly. "I want to be _your_ true and loyal heart."

I drop my gaze, overwhelmed by my emotions, but Matt curves his hand around my jaw and brings my eyes back to his, moving in closer...

Adele's _Hello_ ringtone rings between us, and I look down at the cell phone on the grass next to me.

_Hey Mom, Grandma Leah ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and she wants me to ask you if you want pineapple on your half, and ask Dad if he wants mushrooms. Also, I finished my homework for the weekend. Can I play Xbox now?_

"Come on," Matt laughs, reading our son's text along with me. He presses a firm kiss to my mouth. "Let's go home and finish this later."

He takes my hand and rises to his feet, gently tugging me with him just as his cell phone goes off. When he pulls it out of his pocket, he rolls his eyes.

"My new, civilian job. I better take this. The advantages of modern technology," he smirks playfully, waving the phone. "Tell Nana and Grandpa Cullen I send them my love," he whispers quickly before pressing the green button.

I chuckle, and as he walks away, I pick up my journals and once more turn towards the headstones.

Edward Anthony Cullen  
Major  
U.S. Air Force - World War II  
June 22, 1922 – March 12, 2014  
Purple Heart  
Distinguished Service Cross  
Loving husband, father, and son

Isabella Marie Cullen  
Heroine  
World War II  
September 13, 1924 – September 13, 2014  
Loving wife, mother, and daughter

"Goodbye, Nana." I press a kiss to my fingers and lay them over her smooth headstone, and then saying goodbye to my Grandpa, I do the same. "We miss you both, but we know you're together and happy, and we're okay as well. Take care of each other...always. I'll visit you again soon."

And as I turn around, the breeze whistles through the trees, whipping up my long hair while a soft, familiar giggle carries through the air - the sound of a woodland nymph forever where she belongs.

**THE END**

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**A/N: Thank you all for sharing this with me. It was a long one, and in places, a rough one, but I hope you've enjoyed where the copper-haired boy and his woodland nymph have brought us.**

**Thanks so much for all the thoughts you've shared with me, on fanfiction, fictionpad, twitter, facebook, and anywhere else. I know I haven't always been great with review replies, but as you all know, this was a looong story, and with RL in the mix, most of the time it was a pick between replying or writing the next chapter. I hope to touch base with you all in the next few days and respond to your reviews, at least for the last few chapters. **

**Finally, shameless plug time:**

**We'll be starting a new, short story on Monday. A seven-part outtake to Key West, entitled Key West: The Honeymoon. For those of you who've read Key West…yeah, get ready, DeepDiverWard is back! ;)**

**And after that…we'll see. 3**

**Love you all! Talk to you soon!**

**Patty**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


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